


The Dragon Gate

by manic_intent



Category: Ghost of Tsushima (Video Game)
Genre: Fix-It, Full spoilers, M/M, NOTE: THIS FIC IS MOSTLY T-RATED, Pining, Post-Canon, That Postcanon story that takes place 7 years after Ghost of Tsushima, during the second invasion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:53:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 85,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26476756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: Driven to his knees, his katana sent spinning across the floor, Ryuzo blew out a ragged breath between gritted teeth and waited for the end. Beyond the open shoji doors that led to the courtyard, under a starless sky, the air was thick with the sounds of people vomiting and screaming. Ryuzo bit down the words on his tongue, waiting. There was nothing left to say.The snarling black mask Jin wore looked far less intimidating than the rage in his eyes as he walked closer, a bestial fury that Ryuzo had never seen Jin wear. Not even during that last disastrous ‘friendly’ duel between them. Not when they’d raided Mongol camps together.It tore loose Ryuzo’s brief determination to keep his peace. “Jin. I’m sorry.”
Relationships: Adachi Masako/Mai, Sakai Jin/Ryuzo
Comments: 237
Kudos: 211





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The events of Ghost of Tsushima differ from history (they merge the 1st and 2nd invasion by starting with the outnumbered samurai standoff and ending with the ‘divine wind’ incident, and ignore what happened to the other islands etc). 
> 
> As such, I’ll be ignoring a large part of history as well since I’m lazy. This would be what I hope a Ghost sequel would be like. The story is technically a continuation of my Lord of the Blade series, but I’m not going to tag it as such: you won’t need to have read it to understand this.
> 
> \--  
> For those few readers trying this fic without having played the game, tyvm!! I'd rec watching at least the intro cinematic to the game:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I_-LrLxKrOo  
> which should give you an idea of the main character, Jin, the setting, and a rough idea of what happened during the first invasion. Basically, Sakai Jin and his uncle Lord Shimura, the ruler/Jito of the island of Tsushima, try to defend Tsushima against an invading Mongol horde, and all the samurai forces die on the beach other than them. Lord Shimura is taken hostage, while Jin makes random friends and has to resort to deviating away from a (very fictional) code of honour that he was raised with, using assassination techniques to free his uncle. Sadly it's a slippery slope and all that, and the game railroads you into doing worse things as Jin starts losing friends. His childhood friend Ryuzo, a ronin, betrays him to the Khan, and in the game you kill him at Act 2 after the betrayal causes the death of another friend. Jin kills the Khan at the end, but is named a traitor for disobeying his liege lord (the uncle), and in the final fight you have to duel Lord Shimura, after which you can choose to kill him or spare him. It's a great game, prob the most beautiful game I've played so far on any console, and I rec it :D

Seven Years Ago

Driven to his knees, his katana sent spinning across the floor, Ryuzo blew out a ragged breath between gritted teeth and waited for the end. Beyond the open shoji doors that led to the courtyard, under a starless sky, the air was thick with the sounds of people vomiting and screaming. Ryuzo bit down the words on his tongue, waiting. There was nothing left to say.

The snarling black mask Jin wore looked far less intimidating than the rage in his eyes as he walked closer, a bestial fury that Ryuzo had never seen Jin wear. Not even during that last disastrous ‘friendly’ duel between them. Not when they’d raided Mongol camps together. 

It tore loose Ryuzo’s brief determination to keep his peace. “Jin. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s too late for that,” Jin said. He flicked Ryuzo’s blood off his blade, sheathing his katana and drawing his tanto in its stead. 

“That’s not what I meant. Not exactly. I won’t excuse what I’ve done. Nor am I going to ask you again to lie on my behalf.” That’d been a desperate and, admittedly, pathetic last attempt to save his sorry life. From the moment Ryuzo had set a defenseless man on fire before the gates of a castle, he’d known there was no turning back. No path toward redemption. “I’m sorry that you had to become what you have.” 

Jin took a step forward and hesitated, a faint frown ticking over his brow. “Why?” 

“Because it’s going to destroy you,” Ryuzo said, staggering to his feet. Jin tensed as Ryuzo stumbled over, grasping his wrists. “Lord Shimura isn’t going to forgive what you’ve done. This won’t end well, any of it. So. I’ll wait for you at the gates of Yomi-no-kuni.” He dared to reach for Jin’s cheek, stroking a thumb over the snarling mask. “Forgive me by the time you get there, all right? Please. The land of the dead… it won’t be so bad with you there by my side. Just like old times.” 

Imminent death had loosened more than Ryuzo’s reserve: it’d dredged honesty out from the depths of his bones, forced all that he could never say into the open. Jin’s eyes grew wide. He slapped Ryuzo’s palm from his cheek, taking a step back, his hand tightening over the hilt of his tanto. With a strangled sound, Jin spun around, clenching his hands into fists. “Go,” Jin growled. 

“What?” 

“Leave. I don’t care where you go, but. If you go to Umugi Cove, you might be able to board a ship to the mainland now that the Mongol ship blockade’s been broken. Go. I’ll tell the others that I killed you. If they ask.” 

“Jin,” Ryuzo said, uncertain. 

“ _Go_.” 

“Come with me. What you’ve done here—”

“Just _go_ , Ryuzo. I don’t want to see you again.” Jin’s voice cracked near the end, and that unsettled Ryuzo more than his rage. More than the killing intent he’d read off Jin when they’d fought, more than the weight of their regrets. 

Ryuzo let out a shaky breath. “Thank you.” He bowed, even though it hurt to do so, even though Jin couldn’t see it. Leaving his katana where it lay, Ryuzo limped out of the keep, wincing with each step. Distant shouts told him that the Shimura forces were trying to batter down the main gate. Escape was going to be difficult, but with everyone distracted, hopefully not impossible.

Now

Jin smiled to himself as he heard the sounds of someone practicing katas in the inner courtyard. He stole over the rooftops of the Adachi clan housing on silent feet, evading the patrols, dropping down from a roof to dart behind a stack of supplies. Small towers of casks and bundles punctuated the clan hold in tidy heaps. Clan Adachi, like all the other Tsushima samurai clans, was preparing for war.

The boy practicing by himself in the courtyard had something of his mother in his eyes and something of his father in his jaw, dressed in Adachi blue with a bokken in his hands. Lord Adachi Takemi, seven years old, was by default the daimyō lord of Ariake. A role that the boy took to with a seriousness beyond his age, conscious—perhaps too conscious—that he was the son of two legends. Takemi’s conception had been a ‘parting gift’ from his late father, Lord Adachi Harunobu, to Lady Adachi Masako prior to the massacre at Komoda beach. Given Masako’s advanced age and the misery she was put through soon after, the birth itself was a miracle by any measure.

As Jin got closer, Takemi jerked back, raising his bokken in Jin’s direction. “Who’s there?” Takemi demanded. 

Jin laughed, and Takemi’s face lit up. “Lord Sakai,” Takemi said, lowering his weapon respectfully and sheathing it in his obi. 

“I’m no longer a lord. I’ve told you not to call me that,” Jin said, though being called ‘oji-ue’ was disconcerting and ‘ani-ue’ was strange given the gap in their ages. “Where’s your mother?” 

“I’ll take you to her.” Takemi began to head toward the newer addition to the Adachi holding, a set of large storage sheds. “Will you be joining our muster?” 

“Not directly, but I’ll be close by.” Masako had invited him to do so, but Jin hadn’t wanted to make any further trouble between her and Lord Shimura. The alliance between Clan Adachi and Clan Shimura was prickly enough as it were, and had soured over the last few years for reasons that Jin hadn’t been able to figure out. 

“You’ve been gone for a while,” Takemi said as they walked. “Haha-ue said that you went to the mainland.” 

“I did.” After the last of the Mongols were routed from Tsushima, Jin had used his semi-friendship with the master of Umugi Cove to put himself aboard a smuggler’s ship to the mainland. He’d spent the last year wandering, observing the shōgunate’s defensive preparations. Or at least, that was what Jin told himself. Even as he tensed up whenever he saw anyone in a straw hat or woven straw armour. 

“I heard that a great stone wall was built at Hakata Bay. Stakes driven into the mouth of the river.”

“It’s not a bad plan,” Jin said, though he’d vaulted the wall without much difficulty himself with the help of a nearby set of crates. “What’s the situation here?” 

Takemi dutifully updated Jin as they walked. The Adachi holding felt busier than what Jin was used to, packed with new kashindan and staff. The ones they passed studied Jin in his black Ghost armour uneasily but offered no comment other than respectfully greeting their very young lord.

Jin held his counsel as they passed new racks of bows and arrows to the back of the archery grounds, where Lady Adachi Masako presided over a map spread over a table. Seven years hadn’t left much of a mark on Masako’s worn face other than a bit more silver in her hair, and she was back in full armour, her blades worn at her hip. Yuna stood beside her in a fine set of leather and mail Adachi gear, a well-used bow at her back. Beside them stood Captain Kawano of the Adachi kashindan, a sturdy man, one of several Yarikawa volunteers who’d chosen to resettle with Masako as a retainer after the first war. 

Yuna glanced up sharply as they approached and grinned. “Yo. Look what the winds blew in. Had a nice holiday on the mainland?” 

Kawano turned, a hand dropping watchfully to the blade at his belt. He blinked and bowed deeply. “Lord Takemi. Lord Sakai.” 

“Don’t call me Lord Sakai,” Jin said, bowing respectfully in turn. “Lady Masako. Kawano-san. Yuna-san. It’s good to see you.” 

“Leave us,” Masako told Kawano, who bowed again and left. She pursed her lips as she waved Jin closer. “Good. You made it. How’s the mainland?” 

“The samurai of Kyūshū are far better organised. A number of forts and defensive structures have been built at landing points, including Hakata Bay. The shōgunate believes an invasion is imminent: Kublai Khan recently held a conference at his summer palace. There’s reason to believe that it’s about a second war,” Jin said. 

“I’ve heard that all from your uncle’s interminable conferences in his castle,” Masako said, frowning at the map of Tsushima before her. “I wanted to know what your opinion was.” 

Jin glanced at Takemi, who folded his arms stubbornly. “I’m the daimyō lord of Ariake,” Takemi said, a little resentfully. “I don’t see why I should be left out of any strategic discussions.” 

“Wah! Lord Takemi is so young and already so fierce,” Yuna said, chuckling as Takemi glared at her. “Training so hard every day. Do you know, if you train too long as a little boy, you’d never grow tall?” 

“Enough,” Masako said. Yuna smirked but stayed quiet, and Takemi contented himself with another glare before looking back to his mother. They exchanged a long glance, then Masako exhaled. “Frankly, I’m tempted to ask Jin to take Takemi to the mainland. Mai begged me to do so.” 

“Haha-ue!” Takemi objected. 

“However,” Masako said, ignoring the outburst, “how would that look? If I send away my son, but only my son?” She looked over at the main clan housing. Shadows cut deeper against Masako’s face as she turned against the light, her hands tensing against the table. “I hate this. War, all of it.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Takemi said, low and fierce. “I won’t abandon our home. Or my duty.” 

“You’re a child,” Masako said. She rubbed a hand over her face. 

“Child or not,” Jin said gently, “he is the lord of Ariake.” 

Masako gave Jin a hard-eyed look that he met evenly. She looked away, down at the map, her jaw working. “You don’t wish to speak your mind in front of Takemi, but you’d also counsel me to respect a boy’s wishes? Men. Well? What did you have to say?” 

“I think the shōgunate intends to sacrifice Tsushima and Iki Island,” Jin said, “in the hopes that we’d slow down or bloody the invading forces enough that they can be broken against the defenses on the mainland.” 

Takemi tensed, but no one looked surprised. “Lord Hōjō Tadahira wrote to me saying as much,” Masako said with a grim line to her mouth. “Out of his friendship with my late husband. Or so he says.” 

“He asked you to send Takemi to him,” Jin guessed. At Masako’s tight nod, Jin said, “The Hōjō clan only believes in power. I doubt altruism is part of their nature.” 

“I know. He was hardly subtle about it. Save my son and die with Tsushima, then when the invasion blows over—assuming it does—I presume that as Takemi would be the last surviving Tsushima clan samurai, Lord Tadahira would push for him to be made Jitō of the island. A puppet Jitō under Hōjō control.” Masako shook her head. “I can’t say I wasn’t tempted regardless.” 

Takemi began to speak, but Jin patted him on the shoulder. “It _was_ a tempting offer. Had he played more toward your pride—”

“To people like Lord Tadahira, I’d always be a peasant,” Masako said, with a sharp laugh. “He didn’t bother to ‘play’ anything to a peasant. No. Takemi stays here. As much as it kills me to… no.” She hugged herself, biting her lip, then closed her eyes and straightened up. “I assume you’re not here to join my muster.” 

“I’ll blend in with the ronin and fight with them,” Jin said, “but I’ll stay close.” 

“Are you going to talk to your uncle?” Yuna asked. 

Jin gave her a startled look. “No. Why?” 

“Probably a good thing,” Yuna said, even as Masako frowned at her. “What? You _were_ going to tell Jin, weren’t you?”

“Tell me what?” Jin asked, looking between them anxiously. “Did something happen to my uncle?” 

“Oh, he’s fine, though the last time he visited, I had this unsettling feeling that he was angling to try and adopt Lord Takemi,” Yuna said, smirking as Takemi pulled a face. “That’s a funny thing you samurai like to do, hm? Poach each other’s children.” 

“He won’t,” Masako said. She nodded at Yuna, who made a show of inclining her head and retreating. “Jin. The issue of Takemi aside, my correspondence with Lord Tadahira has been useful. He’s a close confidant of the Shikken.” 

The Shikken Hōjō Tokimune controlled the shōgunate—even the Imperial family. “You’ve petitioned them for military aid?” 

“I’ve tried. It hasn’t worked as well as I hoped,” Masako said. 

“A joint petition by yourself and my uncle might—” Jin began.

“Your uncle?” Masako curled her lip. “He hasn’t learned anything, the old fool. Don’t bristle.”

“I wasn’t going to. Lady Masako, if I may ask. What is the nature of your quarrel with my uncle?” Jin asked, as carefully as he could. 

Takemi looked at Jin with some surprise, even as Masako said, “You, of course.”

“Me?” Jin blinked. 

“Clan Adachi believes that your ouster from the ranks of the samurai and your condemnation as a traitor is unfair,” Takemi said, “and that your methods, while unorthodox and at times ill-advised, may have been necessary.” 

Jin stared at the boy, even as Masako laughed and said, “Did you memorise that letter I dictated?” 

“I believed every word of it,” Takemi said, lifting his chin.

“A letter?” Jin asked, groping for context.

“We’ve been petitioning the shōgun through Lord Tadahira to reconsider the judgment for some time. Your uncle objected to our efforts. Said you now lacked honour and didn’t deserve to be reinstated to the ranks of the samurai.” Takemi scowled. “Haha-ue argued with him.”

“That’s a nice way of saying that we nearly came to blows in the courtyard,” Masako said, and laughed at the look on Jin’s face. “Which we didn’t. Either way, we’ve barely spoken since, and only where necessary.”

“It doesn’t matter to me whether I’m a samurai or not,” Jin said, frowning. “A rift between Clan Shimura and Clan Adachi, though? At a time like this? We can’t afford that.” 

“Publicly, we’re still allies,” Masako said with a dismissive wave. “It’s good enough. Also, it isn’t a matter of being able to tack an honorific back to your surname. It’s a matter of you not being hunted down on sight by the other samurai. Or the rest of us not being penalised in turn for ‘harbouring a traitor’.” 

“I see,” Jin said, though he wished he didn’t. “Thank you. For your efforts.” 

“Assuming they get anywhere. I believe Lord Tadahira will be sending a reply via the reinforcements that the shōgunate’s been willing to send to Tsushima. It isn’t just Clan Oda who’d be sending forces this time, but Hōjō as well. Clan Oda will assist Clan Shimura, Clan Hōjō will assist Adachi.” 

Jin regarded her with dismay. “Politics? _Now_?”

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” Masako said, folding her arms, “but if it’d get us support from two clans willing to commit more military forces in some puerile competition of strength, I’ll take it. In that, your uncle’s been in agreement.” 

“I see your point,” Jin said, rubbing his temple. “Though, seven years ago, Clan Oda very nearly decided to take over matters from my uncle. The only reason they didn’t stage a coup was because they were busy fighting off the Mongol patrols that still blanketed the area.”

“You’re concerned that whoever the Hōjō clan sends over will try and oust me from my position?” Masako said, with a dry laugh. “I’ve been dealing with stubborn men who think they’re better than I am since before you were born.”

“I wasn’t concerned about you,” Jin admitted. Clan Adachi’s kashindan and retainers, as far as Jin could tell, remained fiercely loyal to Masako. “Besides,” he said with a quick smile, “surely Clan Hōjō should know not to underestimate a woman named ‘Masako’.” 

Masako sniffed. “If Lady Hōjō Masako was still the power behind the shōgunate, we might not be in our current mess. Alas, she passed away half a century ago. As to your uncle? He’s made his bed, as far as I’m concerned. Still, I do think you should stay close by when their representatives arrive.”

“You’re worried after all?” 

“Not about that. You’ll see,” Masako said, giving Jin a long, odd look that he couldn’t parse. “Go. Catch up with Yuna. I believe your friend Norio is in Ariake as well, fortifying the Golden Temple.”

“What about Ishikawa-sensei?” Jin asked. 

“Annoying old man,” Masako said with a snort.

“He’s in Castle Shimura, training the archers,” Takemi volunteered. Jin gave Masako a hard glance but she glowered at him and refused to speak. “Haha-ue asked him to teach me the Way of the Bow a year ago but he said I wouldn’t be worth the effort.” Takemi laughed. 

“Oh, you can laugh,” Masako growled. 

“Ishikawa-sensei is very selective about his students,” Jin said, trying to hide a smile. 

“Says one of his students.” Masako made a dismissive wave. “Go. Takemi, a word.” 

Jin bowed. Outside the archery grounds, Jin nearly walked right into Yuna, who held up a couple of heavy gourds with a smirk. “Let’s find somewhere quiet and drink ourselves silly,” Yuna said, tossing one to Jin, “then you can tell me all the gossip about your visit to the mainland.”

“What gossip?” Jin asked, though he obligingly followed Yuna as she made her way to the back of the Adachi compound. 

“Like the number of hearts you’ve broken over in Kyūshū,” Yuna said and laughed as Jin sputtered and reddened. “What, none at all? Tch. How boring.” 

“What about you?” Jin shot back. “As Lady Masako’s right hand, surely you don’t lack for offers.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Yuna said, patting Jin on the arm. “I have to beat off handsome men and women with a stick.” 

“Good practice for your sword arm,” Jin said as they settled over a viewing platform, dangling their legs over the drop and watching the moon scythed in pale light against the drifting clouds. They toasted each other and drank, falling into a companionable silence. Like this, it was easy to pretend that there was nothing more to the tense quiet blanketing the land, that the sea would stay empty, that the hungry beast of war wasn’t clawing its way back to their shores. 

“Jin,” Yuna said, looking out over the view. “I’m glad that you’ve returned.” 

“I’m surprised that you’re still here,” Jin said, if with a gentle smile. Both strong personalities, Yuna and Masako had an argument at least once a week or so, sometimes ending with Yuna threatening to decamp for Kyoto.

“Hah! Don’t remind me. Grumpy as that old woman is, I like her son, and I like Mai. That’s reason enough for me to stick this through. After this, who knows? I do want to see Kyoto at least once in my lifetime.” 

“I’ll take you there,” Jin offered. He’d gone himself, if only to satisfy the same curiosity. 

If only because he’d heard that ronin and travelling samurai alike often congregated in Kyoto. Not that he’d gotten lucky there either. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Yuna said, toasting Jin again. “Maa. I wish… Never mind.”

“I miss him too,” Jin said. “Taka.” 

Yuna’s face twisted briefly, smoothing away as she drank. “I never asked before. You didn’t kill Ryuzo, did you?” 

“Yuna—”

“Kind of hard to miss a body. Especially of someone with such an esoteric taste in armour.” 

Jin studied Yuna, but she remained unreadable. “No,” Jin said softly. 

“Good.” Yuna tipped back the gourd again. “You’ve lost enough friends. Besides. He didn’t kill Taka. If I were going to blame him, I might as well blame you along with it. I chose not to then. I don’t choose to, now.” 

“The things that Ryuzo did were unforgivable,” Jin said, turning the gourd in his hands, “but at the very end… I couldn’t do it. He was my oldest, greatest friend for most of my life. Same way I couldn’t kill my uncle.” 

“Glad you didn’t. Even if your oldest friend turned out to be a traitorous snake and your uncle remains a pain in everyone’s ass,” Yuna said with a cheeky grin. “Maybe it’s you.” 

“What does that make you, then? Or Lady Masako and the others?” Jin retorted. 

“Unlucky in turn, maybe,” Yuna conceded, chuckling. The sound grew infectious, and Jin found himself laughing, toasting Yuna, drinking. For the calm before the storm, this wasn’t so bad.


	2. Chapter 2

“I must be losing my mind,” Ryuzo muttered as the Tsushima coastline grew visible in the mist. The choppy sea rocked the ship beneath his feet, tilting him against the rail as it shuddered against the stiff wind. They hadn’t made good time out of Hakata Bay. As they approached Komoda Beach, the setting sun gouged red and purple streaks against the greying sky. 

The ship grew busy with excitement. Men emerged from below decks to take in the view, crowding the rails. Ryuzo scowled. He didn’t share their mood—only a crawling dread that grew worse as they closed in on Tsushima. 

A man in fine black and gold armour settled against the rail beside Ryuzo, the sode at his shoulders and the tekkō around his arms tipped with gold, the suneate at his legs etched with stylised scale patterns. Ascetically handsome and tall, with a neat beard trimming his jaw, Lord Hōjō Masaru struck a powerful presence in any room—when he chose to. Something about Ryuzo’s current paymaster unsettled him on a level that Ryuzo couldn’t pinpoint. Not even dealing with the late Khotun Khan had been like this. It was why Ryuzo was still here, despite having been tempted to run away during the night all through the past two weeks. 

“Beautiful island,” Masaru said. 

“This bit is nothing. You should ride around the Golden Temple. Or head north and take a look at some of the shrines. They might have repaired the access bridges by now.” 

Masaru regarded Ryuzo with one of his piercing, disconcerting stares. Looking straight through him, judging him, withholding that judgment. Ryuzo could never meet it for long—he made a show of glancing at the coastline. “Show me. We might have the time.” 

“Why not? We should enjoy it all while we still can,” Ryuzo said with a hoarse laugh. 

“Do you have family in Tsushima?” 

“No.” Ryuzo had been born the third son to a commoner family, but they’d passed during hard winters long ago. He barely remembered them now. “Probably a good thing. This is going to be even more of a disaster than the last time. By all reports, the army that’s coming is going to be even bigger than it was before. I can’t believe I’m going to put myself through this all over again.” 

Masaru nodded. “You’re right. Kublai Khan’s Yuan dynasty finished its conquest of the Song dynasty two years ago. That means the invading force is likely to be made up of not just the Mongol forces but also allied forces from Goryeo and newly subjugated forces from Southern China.” 

Ryuzo rubbed a palm slowly over his face. “What is wrong with these people? Can’t they be satisfied with what they already have?” 

“It doesn’t come out of nowhere. Japanese pirates have been raiding the Chinese coastline for a long time. Besides, it’s also the nature of people in power to crave more,” Masaru said, “and also the consequences of seizing power through sheer might. The Mongol Empire has been divided for some time—only the Ilkhans recognise Kublai as the Great Khan. Revolts and corruption plague Mongol rule in China. To live up to his grandfather’s name, Kublai must continue in his footsteps. No matter how costly his campaigns might be, or how much blood he sheds.” 

“People in power, hm?” Ryuzo asked, with a significant look at the triple triangle clan crest on Masaru’s dō. “Funny thing for someone from the Hōjō clan to wax lyrical about.” 

“The vantage point gives me a certain perspective,” Masaru said. 

“High enough for perspective, but not high enough to not be shoved into the frontlines of an unwinnable war by your brother.” 

Masaru smiled humourlessly. “Unwinnable? Seven years ago, the Mongol forces were driven back from Tsushima, and Khotun Khan was killed in single combat.” 

“After most of the local samurai died right where we’re about to land.” 

Masaru inclined his head. “Samurai tactics have evolved over the past seven years. Besides, if Clan Oda is willing to commit forces to bolster the defence of Tsushima, Clan Hōjō can’t afford to sit on its hands.”

“Due to Oda taking credit for the ‘win’ from seven years back and using the merits to carve out a chunk of territory for itself?” Ryuzo let out a loud snort. “We both know that the true driving force behind the Mongol defeat got branded a traitor. Just because he chose to defy his commander? Tch.” 

Masaru smiled to himself but offered no response. “Just so you know,” Ryuzo said, disoriented by Masaru’s iron calm, “if Lord Shimura or Lady Adachi recognise me, they’d probably try to kill me.” 

“You don’t look like the same scruffy ronin that the wind blew onto my doorstep five years ago,” Masaru said. 

“I’m wearing clan armour now, that’s all. I haven’t magically turned into a different person.” It’d taken years for Ryuzo to get used to wearing clan armour and fine swords at his hip. Masaru didn’t stint when outfitting his men. Even now, Ryuzo sometimes caught whiplash when he saw his reflection. 

“You were offered amnesty in exchange for your loyalty. They’d have to respect that.” 

“Ironic, given that _I_ was offered amnesty but not the person who deserved it.” 

Masaru inclined his head at the approaching coastline. “Shikken Tokimune foresaw a second invasion and believed that you’d be useful. Both in preparing for it and in defending against it.” 

“A delayed death sentence,” Ryuzo said, who’d understood that himself five years ago when Masaru had explained the terms of the amnesty. Back then, Ryuzo hadn’t seen any reason not to agree. He’d grown tired of running. 

“If that’s what you’d like to think,” Masaru said. He pushed away from the rail, folding his arms behind his back as he threaded back through the ship.

#

The Hōjō clan made for an orderly, resplendent display on Komoda beach with their banners and horses and men. Jin stayed out of sight on an overlook by the beach, watching them disembark. He made his way back to the Adachi clan holdings on a swift horse to report what he’d seen to Masako, after which he’d found himself a quiet hiding spot on the rooftops of the main clan housing to wait.

Oddly enough, the incoming clan didn’t make a show of force riding in to the Adachi clan holdings. When the newcomers arrived, they numbered two: a man in gold-trimmed Hōjō armour on a fine horse, with a face mask of a snarling fox, and a man in more sober clan armour with the trimmings of a kashindan captain, his face hidden by a simpler black mask. The man with the fox mask removed it at the gate, identifying himself in a measured voice as Lord Hōjō Masaru as he dismounted. Servants led Lord Masaru and his captain into the Adachi compound to the main clan housing. 

Jin made his way quietly down to a window as Masaru removed his sandals and stepped up onto the engawa, bowing respectfully to Masako and Takemi. After they exchanged formal pleasantries, Masaru said, “My apologies for the delay. The seas were difficult.” 

“You must be tired after your journey. Please, honour us by being our guest for the night,” Takemi said, no doubt having been carefully coached on what to say. Masaru’s captain got up on the engawa behind him, stiff and tense. Still masked. Jin frowned, studying the man, even as Masako’s gaze flicked over the captain and back to Masaru. 

“For the night, but in the morning, I’d best be getting back to my men,” Masaru said. “We’ll set up an encampment close to Komoda beach as agreed, and will make the necessary defensive preparations—”

“That’s rude, isn’t it?” Masako interrupted, with a flat glance at the captain. “Staying masked before friends.” 

Jin winced, but instead of taking offence, Masaru smiled. “A necessary rudeness for now. May we speak privately, Lady Masako?” 

“Hardly appropriate,” Masako said, placing a hand on her son’s shoulder. “If you have something to say, say it. My son is the lord of Ariake, not I.” 

“As you wish,” Masaru said, even as the captain beside him let out a dry laugh that Jin would’ve recognised anywhere. Jin’s body moved before he could think. As he surged through the window, Masaru took a step back in surprise, his hand going to the hilt of his katana. The captain, in contrast, moved to place himself between Masaru and the new threat—before stiffening and clenching his fists. Jin stormed up to him and yanked the mask off his face. 

Ryuzo. It _was_ Ryuzo. 

The world around Jin faded into a hollow roar. His heart hammered in his chest, his eyes burned. Ryuzo stared soberly back at him, handsome as ever, untouched by time and out of place and infuriatingly, gloriously here. Jin let out a raw sound scraped out from deep within him and punched Ryuzo across the cheek. 

Ryuzo yelped, staggering back. As Jin advanced on him, Masako grabbed Jin by the shoulder. “Calm yourself or leave,” she told him, though she frowned at Ryuzo. 

Masaru looked appraisingly at Jin. “Lord Sakai, I presume. The so-called Ghost of Tsushima? I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“Not here,” Masako said before Jin could speak. “Come.” 

She led them to the chasitsu tea room overlooking one of the inner karesansui gardens and called curtly for refreshments as they washed their hands in the chozu-bachi stone basin. As they knelt facing each other across the tatami—Masako, Takemi, and Jin on one side, Ryuzo and Masaru on the other—it felt a little like lines being drawn. For all that that Ryuzo looked uncomfortable and wary, Masaru seemed perfectly composed. They waited until servants served tea and snacks. Ryuzo didn’t touch his, nor did Jin, though Masako and Masaru drank. The warm, bitter scent of matcha drifted through the room. Takemi ate one of the wagashi snacks on the tray, though he looked alertly between Ryuzo and Jin as he did so. 

As Masako drained her tea, she said, “Is there a particular reason why the Hōjō clan has chosen to bring a traitor under my roof?” 

Masaru inclined his teacup at Jin before his next sip. “Even traitors can be useful, as you’ve no doubt found for yourself.” 

“Jin is no traitor,” Masako said, loudly setting down her cup. “Or is that your brother’s position after all?” 

“Lord Tadahira has carefully considered your concerns, and has responded to them in turn,” Masaru said, drawing the wrapped scroll from his belt and setting it before him. “However, before you read this, I’d like to provide you with some context.” 

“Do tell,” Masako said, even as Takemi rose to his feet and walked over to pick up the scroll. He returned to his mother’s side, handing it over. 

“Unlike my brother, I loathe politics,” Masaru said, setting down his cup and folding his hands in his lap. “Even as I recognise it as a necessary part of our lives. Seven years ago, the Hōjō clan faced a dilemma. The Shikken did not believe that Khotun Khan’s army could be stopped at Tsushima. Clan Oda volunteered to send reinforcements, but only Clan Oda—all other mainland clans, including us, believed it would be futile. That it’d be better to prepare for an inevitable assault on the mainland.” 

“Jin killed the Khan, routing the Mongol army. The only surviving clans left to reap military merits were Shimura, Adachi, and Oda,” Masako said, her lip curling. “I’m aware. Isn’t that why we have a rash of Oda-affiliated clans on the island?”

“Clan Oda approached the shōgunate after the battle. They pushed for an amnesty on Lord Sakai’s behalf. Further, they asked for Lord Shimura to be deposed, and for Lord Sakai to be named Jitō of Tsushima.” As Jin inhaled sharply, Masaru glanced at him. “Lord Oda Hideyoshi, who led the Oda reinforcements, pronounced himself impressed by the Ghost’s exploits. We believe he intended to match one of his daughters to Lord Sakai. The move would consolidate their control over Tsushima, and allow Clan Oda to claim Lord Sakai’s legend as their own.” 

“I… he never said,” Jin said with a blink. “We barely spoke. Even when I was under arrest.”

“Your status didn’t matter to him at that point. However, you then escaped and killed Khotun Khan,” Masaru pointed out. “Men have been rewarded richly for far less.”

“What did the Hōjō clan do?” Masako asked, her grip tightening over the scroll. 

“The Shikken had no choice but to reward Clan Oda’s contribution by awarding land to subsidiary branches of their clan,” Masaru said, glancing at Jin with an unreadable expression, “but where the Ghost was concerned, he baulked. Clan Oda has always been rebellious, and it’s no secret that they resent Hōjō control over the shōgunate. He feared that celebrating Lord Sakai’s exploits would set a dangerous precedent, one that would lead to an outbreak of war between the clans.” 

“Is that why your clan gave me amnesty but not Jin?” Ryuzo said, incredulous. Jin glanced at Ryuzo, surprised by the vehemence in his tone. 

“As you say,” Masaru said, oddly untroubled by the rude way a retainer was addressing him. “There had to be a balance. Clan Oda deserved a reward. However, at the same time, the Shikken considered it necessary to make an example of Lord Sakai. To warn off any future rebellions, and to curb Oda control over Tsushima. The Shikken ordered Lord Shimura to execute Lord Sakai personally. As a test of his loyalty.”

“He failed,” Masako said, “though it wasn’t because he didn’t try.” 

“So we heard. A couple of attempts were made by the Shikken to locate and arrest Lord Sakai, but they proved embarrassing and costly. My brother and I counselled the Shikken to leave matters be. As long as Kublai Khan remained in power in China, he would continue to launch assaults on neighbouring countries. We felt there was work to be done. Defensive structures needed building.” Masaru gestured at Ryuzo. “Our armies trained to counter Mongol tactics, counselled by people who have seen them firsthand.” 

Masako gave Ryuzo another hard stare, even as Takemi said, “The unfairness remains. An ugly stain on history, should it be allowed to continue purely because of politics.” 

“The world is unfair, Lord Takemi,” Masaru said, “and the samurai are by no means strangers to ugliness—no matter what you’ve been taught to believe. We’re landlords who live in comfort because we’re violent people, squeezing tributes out of the people we subjugate. People whom we hardly ever allow to rise into our ranks. Small wonder most of them secretly despise or fear us. Your mother should know. She didn’t grow up as one of the samurai.” 

Takemi looked at Masako with a child’s vulnerability in his eyes, but Masako glowered at Masaru in turn. “Spare me the philosophising,” Masako said. She opened the scroll, unwrapping it roughly and scanning through it, Takemi peering over her arm. He gasped. Masako sniffed loudly and passed the scroll to Jin. 

“An offer of amnesty,” Jin said, surprised as he read. “And an offer of reinstatement to my lands.” 

“It’s unsigned and lacks the shōgun’s seal,” Masako said, with a harsh bark of a laugh. “It’s a useless piece of paper.” 

“Bait. This is so much like your brother,” Ryuzo muttered. 

“Think of it as a conditional offer,” Masaru said, inclining his head. “One that temporarily lifts the execution order over Lord Sakai’s neck. Kublai Khan, by all reports, is sending a far greater force to Tsushima than he did seven years ago, under the command of a man who is already a legend—General Arakhan.” 

“You want Jin to produce another miracle from his ass,” Masako said, ignoring the way her son winced at the crude term, “but in the Hōjō clan’s name.” 

“That is what my brother and the Shikken would like,” Masaru agreed.

“What about you, Lord Masaru?” Takemi asked. 

“I think a defence of Tsushima as it is now would be near-impossible,” Masaru said slowly. “Had I had things my way, I would have evacuated all the women and children on Tsushima and Iki Island to the mainland months ago. We could have converted the island into a huge trap for the invasion by making use of its natural and often inaccessible terrain. Forced General Arakhan to pay for every step that he gained.” 

“What would I do on the mainland?” Masako scoffed, though she studied Masaru curiously. 

“Regardless, matters have progressed to a point where it’s no longer about what I would want,” Masaru said, “and no matter what you think of my clan or me, we _are_ here to help.” 

“As is Clan Oda,” Masako said. 

“As you say. I intend to meet with Lord Hideyoshi and Lord Shimura myself on the morrow,” Masaru said. He looked tired as he said this. “After that, I’d like to survey what’s been done in Tsushima in person. If possible.” 

“I’ll accompany you for the meeting, and send a trusted confidant of mine with you for the latter.” Masako smiled thinly. “I can’t promise that she won’t also try to punch the man by your side, however.” 

“He’ll survive a few punches,” Masaru said, even as Ryuzo muttered, “Oi, oi,” in a resentful tone so familiar that Jin’s chest clenched up, aching. They finished the cooling tea and exchanged strained pleasantries. 

As the others prepared to retire for the night, Jin steeled himself and drew Ryuzo aside. “We need to talk,” Jin told Ryuzo as Ryuzo gave him a wary stare. 

“You said you didn’t want to see me again. Now you want to talk?” Ryuzo said, though he lowered his voice. 

“I’m surprised that you’re here.”

Ryuzo let out another dry laugh. “Didn’t have much of a choice there.”

“Ryuzo, I—”

“Incidentally,” Ryuzo said, “it’s not a good idea to grow beholden to the Hōjō clan in any way. Or Oda. They’ll take double the price of what they paid for you out of your hide.”

“Is that what happened to you?” Jin asked, growing angry on Ryuzo’s behalf despite himself. Despite everything they’d done to each other. 

“What does me being here look like? Do you know how many people Kublai Khan is sending against us this time? Seven years ago is going to look like gentle foreplay compared to how hard they intend to fuck us in the ass now.” 

Jin coloured, shocked by Ryuzo’s words—even as their crudeness twisted a strange, tense curl in turn within his belly, a tightening in his loins. “Ryuzo!” 

“You know I’m right,” Ryuzo said, oblivious. “Stay alive, hm? That useless scroll would be even more useless if you die.” He gingerly patted Jin on the shoulder and stalked back over to Masaru’s side. Watching them leave together toward the guest housing… hurt. The clan armour looked odd over Ryuzo’s shoulders, out of place. 

As he stared grimly after them, Masako approached. “Go with Yuna when she accompanies Lord Masaru around the island,” Masako said. 

“You’re concerned for her safety?” 

“Her? No. I think it’d be useful for you to also get a better grasp of Tsushima as it is now.” 

“All right,” Jin said. He let out a slow breath. “You knew, didn’t you? About Ryuzo.” 

“Lord Tadahira hinted as much. That they employed a ‘controversial’ consultant with firsthand knowledge of Mongol tactics, someone who they intended to bring along with their reinforcements.” Masako gave Jin a pitying look. “I doubt that life in the Hōjō clan would’ve made him a better person. Be careful.”

“I doubt he’ll betray us a second time.” 

“That’s not what I mean. Come with us tomorrow to Castle Shimura.”

“Is that a good idea?” Jin asked. 

“You’ll have to face your uncle sooner or later,” Masako said with a thin smile, “and I’d rather you did it before the war, rather than during it. Now. Get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For people who played the Yakuza games, the NPCs in this fic are going to be pretty obvious cameos, haha. 
> 
> The major difference between history and the game: Tsushima and Iki get steamrolled early on and end up as a footnote: https://www.ancient.eu/article/1415/the-mongol-invasions-of-japan-1274--1281-ce/ 
> 
> Both invasions don’t actually end up in a military occupation, and the “bushido” code in the game didn’t exist like that at the time: https://www.washingtonpost.com/video-games/2020/08/14/like-ghost-tsushima-heres-what-you-may-not-know-about-samurai/ 
> 
> The political myth of the samurai: https://www.polygon.com/2020/7/23/21333631/ghost-of-tsushima-kurosawa-films-samurai-japan-abe-politics
> 
> On Ryuzo’s name (Dragon third, aka the third son): https://sengokudaimyo.com/japanese-names


	3. Chapter 3

As they rode out of the Adachi holdings, Yuna said, “Riding right through the front gate of Castle Shimura… are you sure that some of us won’t be turned into target practice?” She gestured at Jin with a cheeky grin.

“If it does happen, you can have my things,” Jin said with a wan smile. The joke broke the tension humming through the riding party—Ryuzo sniffed from the front beside Lord Masaru, while Masako laughed. 

“Shouldn’t you leave all of that to Lord Takemi? I’m not the one who likes to follow you around like a puppy. Must be a boy thing, being desperate for father figures. Look how it wrecked your life,” Yuna said. 

“Lord Takemi would much rather inherit his mother’s blades than mine,” Jin said, chuckling. “I’m not the one who musicians call an incarnation of Kashima-no-kami.” 

“Don’t bring up that nonsense before a guest,” Masako said. 

“I’ve heard the tales,” Masaru said, sounding amused. “Don’t be too concerned. If Clan Oda intends to shoot anyone on the spot, they will target me first.” 

“I’m not so much worried about Clan Oda as Clan Shimura,” Yuna said, with a wink at Jin, who sighed. “It didn’t work that well the last time, admittedly. All they killed was Jin’s horse.”

“I liked that horse,” Jin murmured. He loved all the horses he’d ever owned. Even the one he rode now, which he’d brought over with him from the mainland—a spirited black kiso uma that he’d bought at a discount outside Kyoto after helping a horse breeder with a problem. 

“Clan Shimura is effectively a subsidiary of Clan Oda at this point. I wouldn’t be too concerned,” Masaru said. 

“Didn’t Oda want to replace him with Jin?” Ryuzo asked. “Why should Lord Shimura listen to them?” 

“Most of the new clans who moved here are Oda affiliates or branch clans,” Masako pointed out. “Lord Shimura needs their support to rule effectively, which meant aligning himself with Clan Oda. For the sake of hastening Tsushima’s recovery after the invasion, he swallowed his pride.” 

“Something that you’d have trouble doing,” Yuna said, grinning mischievously. 

“You’d be surprised. I’ve done it before. Swallowed my pride, obeyed my husband,” Masako said, with a wry curl to her mouth. 

“That must have ended well,” Yuna said, even as Jin gave her a warning glance. 

“Well enough. You’ve probably heard the songs about our duel,” Masako said, though she looked away.

“That really happened?” Ryuzo asked, curious enough that he turned in his saddle to look at Masako. “I’ve seen Lord Harunobu fight before. He was better than anyone I’d ever met, a true kensei. You beat him in a duel?” 

Jin had wondered that himself—he’d fought Harunobu in a friendly duel once before the war, and hadn’t come close to scratching him. During the first invasion, he’d duelled Masako when she’d flown into a rage, and she’d been good, but not as good. “I wonder,” Masako said, though she smiled a little wistfully. 

Ryuzo started to speak and stopped as Masaru pointedly cleared his throat. They fell into a strange quiet, one that felt dreamlike to Jin even as they passed villages busy building fortifications under Adachi supervision. The work looked fatalistic, carried out in an efficient but sombre mood. Morale looked low, and Jin said as much to Masako as they passed through a river fording. 

“Oh, you noticed,” Masako said. 

“Seven years isn’t that long ago,” Yuna said as their horses surged out of the water on the opposite bank. “No family escaped unscathed during Khotun’s military occupation.” She shot Masako a quick, assessing glance that was almost openly protective. Jin hid a smile. For all that Yuna liked to argue with Masako and talk about leaving, she’d grown fond of her current paymaster. 

“Some of the fortifications look unorthodox,” Masaru said with a backward glance at the village they passed. 

“Mainland samurai aren’t the only ones who tried to learn from what happened before,” Masako said, “nor are you the only person who thought it might be possible to turn Tsushima’s terrain toward our advantage. If the Mongols come to Ariake, they’ll face me on my terms, not theirs.”

“Lord Shimura approved?” Jin said, surprised. 

“We’re far past him having to approve of anything that I do,” Masako said, smiling coldly. “I’m a mother, responsible not only for my son but for everyone else who’s placed themselves in my care. I value their lives more than some code that I wasn’t born into.”

“Another reason why Lord Shimura and Clan Adachi haven’t been on speaking terms,” Yuna said, chuckling. “Clan Oda should’ve just named you the Jitō.” 

“A woman? Perish the thought,” Masako said, though she rolled her eyes. 

“Your son, then. You can be like Lady Hōjō Masako, the power behind the throne. Then it wouldn’t just be Ariake that’s tried to prepare,” Yuna said.

“Prepared or not, with the sheer numbers that they’re likely to throw at us, I don’t like our chances,” Ryuzo said, resigned. “All this is going to do is delay the inevitable.”

“I don’t need to listen to the counsel of a traitor,” Masako said, glaring at Ryuzo. Ryuzo raised his palms briefly in a gesture of surrender and fell quiet. 

They slowed down once they rode within sight of Castle Shimura. Jin straightened up at the sight of his childhood home, smiling. Despite all that had happened here since, for Jin, the good memories outweighed the bad. He’d learned how to use a blade properly behind those walls, explored all its secrets, climbed its rooftops and its trees, fished for eel in its moat. 

He’d met Ryuzo here. 

Jin looked over at Ryuzo and found him frowning down at his hands through his mask, his shoulders tight. Memories of the siege, perhaps. Or their duel to the death that hadn’t ended that way. Jin looked away, his good mood fading. 

No one shot at them as they rode through the gates, though the fact that no one met them in the courtyard beyond it wasn’t a good sign. Masaru gave no indication that he felt offended by the slight as he dismounted, though Masako rolled her eyes again and Yuna laughed. Jin didn’t recognise the kashindan captain in Shimura colours who eventually walked over toward them. The captain gave them all an assessing look that didn’t appear all too friendly. “Lord Shimura was not expecting any visitors,” he said. 

“This again?” Masako said with a snort. She hadn’t gotten off her horse. “Well, tell him that Lady Adachi Masako and Lord Hōjō Masaru are here, and we’d appreciate it if he could kindly grant us an audience. I’ll wait.” 

“Lady Masako,” Jin said, even as the captain glanced at Jin.

“Lord Shimura does not keep company with traitors,” he said. 

“Enjoy,” Ryuzo told Masaru, as he began to turn his horse. “I’ll wait outside with Jin.” 

“You’ll stay. Lord Sakai as well,” Masaru said, folding his arms. “I have news to share with Lord Shimura and Lord Hideyoshi.” 

The captain began to speak and flinched as an arrow buried itself on the ground beside his feet. As he whirled, a familiar, lean man in a black and white kataginu and kimono walked over, a longbow in his hands and arrows at his back. The years had worn deep wrinkles into Ishikawa’s face, turning his remaining hair silver. He plucked the arrow from the ground and returned it to his quiver. “Come,” he told them. “Posturing bores me.” 

“Ishikawa-sensei,” Masaru said with a wry smile. “You haven’t changed.” 

Ishikawa glanced at Jin, then at Ryuzo, and gestured curtly, turning on his heel and ignoring the protests from the kashindan captain. They dismounted and followed, Jin threading past Masako to Ishikawa’s side. “You look well,” Jin said. 

“You look tired,” Ishikawa retorted. The castle looked busy enough, preparing for a siege. Ryuzo averted his eyes, fixing them on his feet as he walked. Strange. Shame, perhaps. 

“I returned not that long ago,” Jin said. “How are the preparations?” 

Ishikawa grunted. “Inadequate.” 

“Inadequate enough that Lord Shimura can’t be bothered being nominally polite to a major ally at his gate?” Masako said. 

“He and Lord Hideyoshi are entertaining an… unusual guest,” Ishikawa said. “The castle’s on edge.” 

“A guest?” Masaru said, surprised. 

“Someone more important than a representative from Clan Hōjō?” Ryuzo asked, startled out of his malaise. 

“You’ll see,” Ishikawa said with a grim scowl. “If they haven’t beheaded her.”

#

Yuna and Ryuzo weren’t allowed past the inner courtyard of the main keep, leading to a tense standoff between kashindan guards. It broke when Yuna laughed loudly, grabbed Ryuzo by the arm, and said, “Let’s find something to drink while all these fine lords decide how best to get us all killed.”

Ryuzo huffed, even as the kashindan exchanged angry glances. Ishikawa sniffed. “I have sake,” he said, walking over to Yuna’s side. Masako didn’t bother to watch them leave—she stalked forward, staring down the first kashindan to get in her way. As he dropped his gaze and stepped aside, she stormed up toward the main keep, teeth bared. Servants darted in before her, likely in a belated attempt to keep things nominally formal. As Masako pushed her way through into the chamber where Lord Hideyoshi and Lord Shimura waited, the latter was still in the middle of rising to his feet. 

Lord Shimura looked… _old_. Thin and sallow, his skin drawn over hollowed cheeks, his golden kataginu and black kimono loose over stooped shoulders. Seeing his uncle like this hurt in a way Jin hadn’t prepared for. He stumbled to a halt, blinking, glad that he was wearing his mask. Lord Shimura’s face twisted into a pained scowl as he noticed Jin behind Masako, before smoothing into an unreadable expression. Beside him, Lord Oda Hideyoshi got to his feet, stocky and silvering but little different from the confident man Jin had first met seven years ago. 

Their guest startled Jin out of his unsettled grief. Ishikawa-sensei had referred to a woman, but Jin hadn’t expected this, somehow. The woman sitting seiza wore the exquisite armour of a Song general in gold and blue, with its silk scarves and tassels. Black mountain scale armour covered her shoulders, and an elaborate helmet with gilded winged cheekguards sat at her knees. She looked closer to Masaru’s age, though Jin couldn’t be sure, her hair bound into a tight bun and unadorned.

“Ah,” said the guest, looking at Jin with frank curiosity. “This must be the Ghost of Tsushima.” She spoke with a heavy accent. 

Lord Shimura took in a slow breath. In a stiff tone, he said, “Lady Masako. Jin is a wanted felon.” 

“There’s been a temporary stay in his execution. Thanks to the Shikken and Lord Masaru here of the Hōjō clan. Who’s your new friend?” Masako asked, with a curious look at the guest. 

“This is General Liang Guiying, late of Guangdong,” Lord Shimura said, his tone flat. “She’s here as an envoy for General Arakhan.” 

Masako whistled. “Don’t you know what the Shikken did to the last two sets of envoys?” she asked Guiying. 

“I’m well aware,” Guiying said with a gentle smile. “Should that be my fate, I’m prepared. There’s a small difference. The previous envoys were from Kublai Khan, sent to the Shikken, while I’m here on behalf of General Arakhan. Sent to Lord Shimura.”

“You’re going to try and persuade us to surrender?” Masako said with a snort. “That’d be entertaining. Give it your best shot.” 

“It wasn’t that long ago that I fought against the Mongols myself,” Guiying said, staring Masako down. “I was in the naval battle at Yamen, the one we lost. I’m here to tell you to surrender, yes. But I hope that you won’t. However, it’d mean the death of everyone on this island. I’ve seen it myself. When the Mongols swept through the village I grew up in, they beheaded all the men for resisting. Impaled all the children on stakes. I won’t tell you what they did to the women. That will be Tsushima’s fate.” 

“You’re an unusual choice for an envoy,” Lord Masaru said. He looked at Lord Shimura, who reluctantly motioned for them to sit, avoiding looking at Jin. 

“I’m expendable,” Guiying said, “and General Arakhan is curious whether your so-called code of honour will allow you to execute an unarmed woman.” 

Lord Shimura glowered at her, even as Lord Hideyoshi exchanged a formally brief greeting with Lord Masaru as he settled down beside him. Jin sat at the far end closest to the door and tried not to stare. He’d never seen the elaborate lamellar plates and mirror armour of a Song general before. It looked heavier than what a woman could bear, though Guiying seemed to wear it without any visible discomfort. 

“I heard of your exploits even in Guangdong,” Guiying told Jin. “You’re… much younger than I expected.” 

“Sorry to disappoint?” Jin said. 

“Not at all. I tried to imitate your tactics while we were trying to halt the Mongol onslaught, but I’m afraid we weren’t very successful.”

“Guangdong is immense. Tsushima is a small island. Besides,” Jin said, uncomfortable with credit, “I had a lot of help.” 

“Dishonourable tactics,” Lord Shimura muttered. 

“Tactics are tactics. They won the day in Yamen,” Guiying said, chuckling mirthlessly. “We were blockaded, starved, outgunned. Prepared for a small skirmish, not a massive assault—the Yuan forces hid the bulk of their soldiers. We fell to a rain of arrows that felt endless. Strategic mistakes meant we couldn’t retreat. For seven days after the battle, hundreds of thousands of the drowned floated up to the surface of the sea, papering it over with the dead.” 

“We won’t be facing General Zhang Hongfan here. By your account,” Lord Hideyoshi said. 

“General Arakhan is more impressive than General Zhang. As to the other commanders under his muster, they're all capable people. Particularly General Fan Wenhu of the Yuan Chinese forces and the Goryeo general, Kim Bang-gyeong. They’re hungry for glory,” Guiying said, with a twist to her mouth. “Their numbers have been swelled by Southern Song forces like myself.” 

“Are they as happy to be here as you are?” Jin said. 

“It’s our lives or yours, and we have no attachment to yours,” Guiying said. 

“Perhaps the Song Chinese could be persuaded to turn against their new masters,” Lord Hideyoshi said.

Guiying laughed, a sharp sound that was not in the least ladylike. “Don’t be naive.” At the angry glance Lord Hideyoshi shot her, she said, “Everyone in the muster has friends and family back in China. Why should we betray Kublai Khan for people we don’t know, when we’re well-aware of what will happen to those we love if we do?” 

“Yet you hope that we won’t surrender,” Jin said, frowning.

“I watched my closest friends throw themselves into the sea to drown at Yamen rather than be captured. As I did, only to be fished out by the enemy. Yes. I hope you won’t surrender. Even if it’d be pointless to resist. I suppose you can content yourselves by earning a nice footnote in history,” Guiying said. “After all, the Yuan dynasty can’t last.” 

“Kublai Khan is ill?” Lord Masaru asked. 

“No, not that. He’d likely live a long life and has many sons. I meant in the arc of history, empires built over mountains of carcasses don’t last. China has seen it for ourselves. Empires like Qin, like the Mongols—they don’t last.” Guiying smiled coldly. “Perhaps one day it’d be your turn. An empire of wolves that’d charge out of Japan, reaving through China and the south, brutalising anyone who you see to be weak or different. The logical end to any culture that glorifies military violence. Perhaps China will rise again in turn, suppressing the inconvenient, strangling the inexpedient. Around and around it’ll go. People are too stupid as a whole to learn from history.” 

“I like you,” Masako said, laughing even as the men beside her scowled. “How did a woman become a general?” 

“Through the usual way,” Guiying conceded. “I married a man of middling ability but generous means and decided that I could do better. Still, it ended with me here, with my husband one of a hundred thousand bodies that had to be fished out of the sea at Yamen and burned, so perhaps it didn’t work very well.” 

The others exchanged glances. “Southern Song was our ally until recently,” Lord Masaru said. “I’d recommend sending her to the Shikken to deal with.” 

“Where she’d be beheaded like the rest,” Lord Hideyoshi said with a cold smile. “You don’t want to dirty your hands?” 

“Merely that I don’t believe that we should be the ones to decide what to do with an envoy,” Lord Masaru said, facing Lord Hideyoshi’s contempt with his unsettling calm. “Though I’d defer to Lord Shimura.” 

Lord Shimura looked over at Guiying, silent for a time. He shook his head as he got to his feet. “You’re free to leave,” he told Guiying. “Your warning is appreciated, but our answer remains the same. Tsushima chooses to defend itself.” 

“That’s ill-advised,” Lord Hideyoshi said with a frown. “She’s a general, not some courtier that Arakhan can afford to lose.” 

“She dared to come here alone and unarmed. An execution would be a dishonourable response, a fate that she doesn’t deserve. General Liang will be escorted back to her boat and sent off.” Lord Shimura left the room, speaking to one of the kashindan outside. 

Jin got to his feet, even as Masako said, “I do have a few more questions.” 

“Ask what you like,” Guiying said, with a surprised look over at the door. Jin left them to it, following his uncle. Lord Shimura gave him a stern glance over his shoulder but did not comment, leading them up to his private study. 

“That was unexpected,” Jin said once they were alone.

“Am I not allowed to reward courage?” Lord Shimura said, folding his arms behind his back. “Besides, by her own account, she’s been warring against Kublai Khan for twenty years. I don’t believe that the Southern Song forces are as committed to the Yuan Dynasty as she’d have us believe. If we show her mercy, the others with her may consider defecting in turn. Or not fighting at their fullest.”

“Assuming General Arakhan doesn’t kill her once she returns to him.”

“Then they’d see how faithless he is, and draw the same conclusions,” Lord Shimura said. He looked Jin slowly over. “You look well,” he said flatly.

“You don’t.” Jin slowly removed his mask, hooking it at his belt. It hurt to see his uncle tense up, as though Jin’s very presence caused him pain. “I know you don’t want me here, but I intend to fight.” 

“My opinion ceased to matter to you seven years ago. I doubt that has changed.” 

“That isn’t true. I value your opinion more than anyone else’s, but I will make my own decisions. The way things worked out, even if I could go back in time, I wouldn’t change very much of it.” As Lord Shimura only stared back at Jin in stony silence, Jin said, “Lord Hōjō Masaru wishes to offer me amnesty.”

“He isn’t the only one,” Lord Shimura said. “Lord Hideyoshi advised me that he once tried the same.”

Jin took the unsigned scroll from his belt, offering it to Lord Shimura. “It’s unsigned, but I’d like you to have it. In place of the sealed offer that will come.” 

“An empty gesture,” Lord Shimura said, though his hands dropped back to his sides, fists clenched. 

“Seven years ago I said that I wasn’t your son,” Jin said, circling Lord Shimura to put the scroll down on his desk. “That is both true and untrue. Oji-ue, for most of my life, you _have_ been my father. The only one who mattered. That will not change. Should we survive what is to come, once it’s over, I’ll give you the signed version, and you can decide my fate. Keep it or burn it, whatever you want.” He bowed deeply, even as Lord Shimura let out a soft and strangled sound. As Jin left the study, he saw his uncle bend towards the scroll through the corner of his eyes, reaching for it with a shaky hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Samurai horses: https://samurai-world.com/kisouma-samurai-horses/  
> https://www.ancient.eu/Mongol_Warfare/  
> http://factsanddetails.com/asian/cat65/sub423/item2696.html
> 
> http://dragonsarmory.blogspot.com/2016/10/song-dynasty-armor.html  
> Liang Guiying is a mix of two real women generals during the Song Dynasty, Mu Guiying and Liang Hongyu https://www.shine.cn/feature/art-culture/1710315709/  
> http://www.womenofchina.cn/womenofchina/html1/people/12/4863-3.htm


	4. Chapter 4

When Masaru announced that they were staying the night at Castle Shimura, Ryuzo frowned. “Is this a kidnapping?” he asked. 

“Alcohol worsens your sense of humour, I see,” Masaru said. He’d located Ryuzo and Yuna drinking behind a supply shed with Jin in tow. It’d been one of Ryuzo’s favourite spots to hide, growing up—particularly when he’d still been small enough to fit comfortably under the shed. 

“I wasn’t joking,” Ryuzo said, blinking owlishly through the alcoholic fog. The sake that Ishikawa-sensei had grudgingly handed over was excellent and very strong. “You’re overdue back in camp, by the way. Shintaro and the others will start to think you’ve been killed and thrown into an Oda ditch.”

“I’ve sent word. Lord Shimura has a guest who Lady Masako and I would like to question further. I’ve been told that there’d be room available for the three of you in the barracks, though it might not be comfortable,” Masaru said, giving Jin an apologetic glance. 

“It’d probably be better for us to ride out and sleep in the woods,” Ryuzo said, getting unsteadily to his feet. “That unsigned scroll was very prettily written and all, but it’s worth shit. Seven years hasn’t been that long.” 

“I’ll leave it up to you both and see you tomorrow morning.” Masaru inclined his head at the three of them and left, making his way back toward the keep. 

“What sort of guest is so interesting?” Yuna asked. Her cheeks were flushed, but her voice didn’t slur. “Is she very pretty or something?”

“She’s a Song General,” Jin said. He looked uncomfortably between Yuna and Ryuzo. 

“Really?” Yuna said, surprised. “But. A woman?” 

“Women can be generals. I don’t know if they’d let you through to the keep if you enter with Lord Masaru, but Lady Masako would probably like you to attend the discussion,” Jin said. 

Yuna sniffed, even as she got to her feet and tossed her gourd of sake to Jin. “If you want to spend some quality time alone with Ryuzo, just say so,” she said and snickered as Jin stammered something in protest. “Don’t kill him yet, all right?” Yuna slapped him on the arm and stalked off, jogging to catch up with Masaru. 

It left Jin and Ryuzo standing together in awkward silence. Ryuzo capped the gourd and hung it at his belt. “I’m surprised that _she_ didn’t try to stab me a few times,” Ryuzo said. 

“She said that if she decided to blame you for her brother’s death, she might as well blame me as well,” Jin said. He slowly capped and hung the gourd in his hands, looking disoriented. 

“Gate’s closing in less than an hour, assuming they haven’t changed the schedule. If we want to ride out, now’s the time,” Ryuzo said, steeling himself. 

He didn’t want to ride out with Jin, let alone spend the whole night with someone he’d betrayed in ugly circumstances. Ryuzo didn’t believe in redemption or penance or anything so trite. Nothing could forgive what he’d done, and saying that he’d have done things differently on hindsight was meaningless. Ryuzo had done what he had thought was best for the people under his command, and some nights it killed him to lie awake knowing that for all his terrible choices, he was the only Straw Hat who’d survived.

“Fine,” Jin said. They walked over to the stables to retrieve their horses, and no one stopped them on their way out of the gates. 

Ryuzo hung back, allowing Jin to pull slightly into the lead. Tsushima did look different as Jin took them off the road. The trees and lush forests Ryuzo remembered from seven years back had been cleared, the grounds leading up to the castle artificially steepened. Not that the Khan had taken Castle Shimura through conventional means before. 

Ryuzo hunched over his saddle with a shudder. When Jin spoke, Ryuzo nearly fell off in shock. “They don’t look as well-prepared as Ariake,” Jin said. 

“No watchtowers, but they’ve tried to fortify the villages and built a kill zone leading to the castle,” Ryuzo said.

“It probably won’t be enough.” With the mask on, Ryuzo couldn’t read Jin’s expression. 

“Regretting coming home?” 

“No. You?” 

“Oh, very much so,” Ryuzo said. 

Jin glanced at him as they rode through the pampas grass. It’d been hacked down, likely to prevent people from hiding within it. “Why don’t you leave? Now, even. There isn’t a blockade, and Umugi Cove is likely still operational.” 

“Fun as it might be to get hunted down by the Hōjō clan—”

“They’d have far more to worry about soon.” 

“You don’t know them,” Ryuzo said. 

“You’re afraid of Lord Masaru.” Jin sounded troubled. 

“He’s an intelligent and highly reasonable person, unlike many of his relatives. Makes it worse, honestly, since he’s just as ruthless. No. It isn’t about him. Or you.” Ryuzo let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know. Every night for the last couple of weeks, I was tempted to run off. I still don’t know why I stayed. Or let them drag me here. Maybe I enjoy pain.” 

Jin laughed, a bubble of mirth that faded into a hiccup. They shot duck for dinner, and Jin led them to a dilapidated old house that looked long-abandoned. Smelled like it too, musty and earthy. The flags piled into a corner were slowly rotting, and dust blanketed the scattered effects on the shelves. Ryuzo spied a familiar-looking set of blades on a lower shelf, walking over and picking up the straw-wrapped katana sheath. 

“Isn’t this mine?” Ryuzo said. He paused, looking over at Jin, who appeared visibly embarrassed. “What, is this your trophy room?” 

“Uhm, not exactly,” Jin said, a little helplessly. “I’ll. Make dinner.” 

“Huh.” On closer inspection, Ryuzo made out a Clan Adachi banner in a corner and a wrapped scroll on a table marked with Ishikawa’s seal, along with other things that didn’t look like trophies. More like gifts or mementoes from friends. If so, why was Ryuzo’s stuff here? He put the katana back down. 

“It’s yours, like you said. Take it back if you want,” Jin said. 

“I’ve got a better set now,” Ryuzo said, though it ached a little to let go of the sheath. That plain but sturdy old blade had served him well for years. “Give me that duck. I’ll cook.” 

Hunting around the forest close by netted Ryuzo some herbs and mushrooms, and Jin’s hideout/hovel had a still-serviceable set of cooking equipment that Ryuzo washed in a nearby stream. He plucked and gutted the duck, making a simple stew. Pity there wasn’t any rice. Jin tensed up as Ryuzo served him a generous portion, not saying a word as he sat within arm’s reach of Ryuzo to eat, masks off. For something Ryuzo had made up on the spot with what he could find, it was fairly palatable, but Jin ate in silence.

Halfway through his portion, Ryuzo couldn’t take it any longer. “Is it that bad?” Ryuzo asked. He hadn’t cooked for himself for years. As one of Masaru’s retainers, he’d been allowed to eat from the central clan kitchens if he’d wanted to, and Ryuzo wasn’t one to turn down free food. 

Jin coughed. “I didn’t say anything,” Jin said.

“That’s the part that worries me,” Ryuzo said. The Jin he knew was always quick with a compliment or two, even when Ryuzo messed up and burnt whatever he was trying to make. 

“It’s just. I think it’s been eleven years. Since the last time I ate your cooking.” 

“I suppose so,” Ryuzo said. They’d begun drifting apart long before the duel. Not that Ryuzo blamed Jin for that—his uncle had started openly grooming Jin for the position of jitō, and Jin hadn’t had much time for much else. “It’d be better with some rice, but at least we have sake.” 

Jin nodded, growing subdued again. They broke out their gourds, though not even sake lightened the mood. As he ladled out a second helping and covered the rest for breakfast, Ryuzo said, “Look, if you’d rather I slept elsewhere, that’s fine. I can meet you back here in the morning.” 

“I didn’t say that,” Jin said. 

“You look so…” Ryuzo trailed off, uncertain. Things had never been this uncomfortable between them before. Not even when Jin had confronted Ryuzo over his betrayals. 

Jin stared down at his second portion, poking through it. “I. I tried looking for you over the last year. I thought you might be in Kyoto. When you were a boy, you said that if you could, someday you’d live there.” 

“Looking for me? What for?” 

Jin fell silent, eating slowly. Just as Ryuzo thought Jin wasn’t going to answer, Jin murmured, “Maybe I missed you.” 

Ryuzo laughed, then realised as Jin tensed that it hadn’t been a joke. “Three years you didn’t bother looking for me after that duel. Then I betray you to the Khan, run away with my tail between my legs, and you decide that you have to see me again?” 

“I did try looking for you after the duel. I thought you might have earned yourself employment with one of the lords, but my enquiries got nowhere. Then things got busy. Especially once we began gearing for war.” Jin finished his bowl, looking at Ryuzo. “If you were also at Komoda, why didn’t you look for me before the battle?” 

“I spent most of that day seriously drunk,” Ryuzo admitted. The Straw Hats were convinced that they were all going to die. Those who’d chosen to stay and see things through had decided to drink through their entire hoard of sake together, since they couldn’t bring it along to the afterlife. Good times. 

Jin took a long swig from his gourd, flushed from drink; his cheeks dusted red in the firelight. It suited him somehow, as did the unfocused look in his eyes, the sheen of oil on his lips. Ryuzo shifted uncomfortably and looked away, eating quickly. He took Jin’s bowl once done, washing everything in the stream and stacking it away. When he returned, Jin had moved closer to the fire, staring into it. He didn’t seem to notice Ryuzo watching him. 

Seven years hadn’t changed Jin very much. Thickened the beard on his jaw a little, maybe. Deepened the bruised hollows under his eyes. He’d grown more handsome somehow regardless, wearing an air of dangerous stillness that now suited him. Ryuzo knew he should excuse himself for the night and turn in, but he sat near Jin instead, drinking. Wishing the ride here and dinner hadn’t sobered him up as much as it had. 

“Do you think that you can pull off the same thing as the last time?” Ryuzo asked. 

“I don’t know. Besides. Seven years ago? That wasn’t much of a victory.” 

“What? But you—”

“We lost well over a third of the population on the island. Including all the samurai and soldiers who died on Komoda, and all the villagers killed after. Especially in Kamiagata, when the Mongols mass-retaliated against the villages there with the same poison I used. Killing the Khan wasn’t a victory. No one won.” Jin shivered. “Now everyone tells me that this time, things will be worse.” 

“It’s what they do,” Ryuzo said, having had to study records of Mongol battles over history along with the other retainers. “Make examples of anyone who resists. Do you know what I’m worried about? That maybe this time around we’d somehow manage to kill Arakhan, but it won’t matter. That’s what happened to Western Xia, fifty years back. Genghis Khan died during the campaign, but the Mongols annihilated the Western Xia state anyway. Levelled entire cities, killing or enslaving everyone.” 

“I don’t understand people like that,” Jin murmured, frowning at the fire. “Even now. I’ve killed scores of the Mongols in defence of Tsushima, some of them in ways that I can’t be proud of. But if I’d had the opportunity to retaliate? Take the war to them, wipe them off the map? I wouldn’t do it.” 

“You’re probably the only samurai around on the island who wouldn’t,” Ryuzo said. 

“My uncle wouldn’t, either.” 

“Did you get to talk to him?” 

Jin nodded slowly. “He’s grown so old. Looked so tired.” 

“I’m surprised that he didn’t remarry,” Ryuzo said. 

“Given the state of affairs on Tsushima, if he’d wanted to remarry, he’d likely have had to marry someone from the Oda clan or an Oda subsidiary,” Jin said. True. Jin's upbringing had probably given him an extensive education in the machinations of the shōgunate court. “He wouldn’t have been willing to do that.” 

“He’d rather let his name die?” Ryuzo chuckled. “You samurai.” 

“Would you have done it? Marry someone you’re told to?” 

“Why not? Your women do it. Most of the time, they don’t even get to refuse. Besides, aren’t most samurai marriages arranged? I’m surprised you didn’t get matched off the moment you got older.” 

“My uncle brought it up now and then, but I was never very… It just never felt quite… I mean…” Jin stumbled into an uncomfortable silence. 

“Why,” Ryuzo said teasingly, “did you already like someone else?” 

To his amusement, Jin reddened visibly, even under the flush from the sake and the warmth from the fire. He turned away. “No.” 

“Liar,” Ryuzo said with a laugh. “Who is it? Someone I know?” He sobered as the implication of his words caught up with him. Every samurai clan on the island other than Shimura and Adachi had been wiped out, seven years back. Even the women. Trained to defend their holdings, it’d been what the Tsushima samurai women had done—gone down fighting. If Jin had liked anyone from their number, she was dead. “I. There’s no need to tell me. Sorry.” 

“I wasn’t lying,” Jin muttered. 

“All right, all right.” 

“…Not entirely?”

“Look,” Ryuzo said, “you don’t have to tell me.” He wasn’t sure that he wanted to know—even thinking it through seriously now felt irritating, somehow, like an itch under his skin. 

“I just. Don’t know whether it’s meant to feel like that. Like a physical weight on your chest. Or this unsettling gut feeling. It comes and goes.” 

Ryuzo bit down on a laugh. Trust Jin to be so frighteningly capable at war and yet be so hopeless at this part of the human experience. “Sounds about right, though if it’s something you suffer in general, I’d get a healer to look into it.” 

“Have you ever felt that way about someone else?”

“Can’t say I have,” Ryuzo said. He’d watched others fall in love over the years, both in the Straw Hats and in the Hōjō clan. It didn’t always work out well for either party. All in all, Ryuzo preferred fooling around with no strings attached.

“You’ve never. With someone else?”

“Hoi, I didn’t say that. Two adults don’t have to be in love to have some fun together, hm? Surely you know that.” 

“Oh,” Jin murmured, and looked so embarrassed that despite himself, Ryuzo got surprised into laughing.

“Don’t tell me. Jin. _You’ve_ never slept with anyone? Really? Didn’t you spend a year wandering the mainland?” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Jin asked, defensive. 

“Samurai women are complicated, but everyone else, not so much,” Ryuzo said, grinning slyly. “Besides. Never mind women, don’t you samurai have something called wakashūdo?”

“I, well, I’d never. Besides, my uncle didn’t think, I’d—” 

Ryuzo snickered as he clapped a sputtering Jin on his back. “All right, all right. Don’t panic. Just teasing.” 

“Did you…? In the Hōjō clan. With men?” Jin asked, uncertain. 

“Sure,” Ryuzo said with a shrug. “Before that too. With the Straw Hats. It isn’t as big a deal as you might think, particularly on the mainland. Lord Masaru is married and has a son, but his favourite lover isn’t his wife or even another woman. Everyone knows. The wife, too.” At the suspicious frown that Jin shot him, Ryuzo laughed. “It’s not me, before you ask. Damn. I keep forgetting how sheltered you were.” 

“You grew up in the same place that I did.” 

“Not at all. You grew up in the keep. I ran wild with all the other kids who lived in and around the castle. It isn’t the same. Though, I suppose I got my real education when I left and joined the Straw Hats.” Ranging around Tsushima drinking and brawling had been an eye-opener. “Life in the Hōjō clan hasn’t been as fun.” 

“Do you resent me? For killing your men. The Straw Hats.” 

Ryuzo regarded Jin with surprise. “Why would I?”

“You called them your family.” 

“They were.” Ryuzo hadn’t been angry with Jin even seven years ago. He’d been busy blaming himself, sunk in his guilt. “You killed people who were brothers to me, but. I was the one who put everyone in that position, so why should I blame you? I’d blame myself first. I did.” 

“I wish I didn’t understand why you betrayed me all those years ago, but I do,” Jin said, draining the last of his gourd. “It still hurts.” 

“I noticed,” Ryuzo said, touching the darkening bruise on his jaw from Jin’s punch. 

“You asked me to forgive you. By the time I passed through the gates of Yomi-no-kuni.” 

“Well,” Ryuzo hedged, “if we were both dead and you still held a grudge, I’d have been rather disappointed, but I mean. I’d understand completely.” 

“I still don’t know if I can ever forgive you. Yet I want to be close to you again. Just like before. That’s pathetic, isn’t it?” 

“Force of habit, maybe,” Ryuzo said, taken aback by the raw admission. 

“Before our duel, if you’d said that you had no one but me, I’d have been so glad,” Jin said, blinking slowly. “Selfishly glad.” 

“…You’ve probably had more than enough to drink. Do you have a place to sleep in that hovel that isn’t covered in insects?” 

Jin let out a frustrated sound. “Nothing I’m saying is coming out right.” 

“That’s what happens when you drink most of a gourd of Ishikawa-sensei’s weirdly strong sake by yourself.” Ryuzo hung his own back at his obi, hauling Jin up to his feet. “Don’t make me tuck you in. Move.” 

He gave Jin a gentle push, but Jin staggered instead with a yelp, flailing. Ryuzo grabbed him to steady him, but Jin’s armour was heavier than it looked—Ryuzo ended up sprawling awkwardly, crushing Jin under his weight. 

“Shit! Sorry,” Ryuzo said, trying to disentangle himself. He froze as Jin wrapped his arms over Ryuzo’s shoulders to hold him still, smelling of sake and steel and sweat. Ryuzo shifted to support most of his weight on his elbows, a quip dying on his tongue as Jin gently traced his jaw. Only when a thumb pressed against his mouth did Ryuzo say, “You are so drunk.” 

“Seven years ago there were many times where I thought my luck had run out,” Jin said softly. “That I’d die without having ever even kissed anyone.” 

“Really?” Ryuzo said. 

“I did get captured by the Khan—no thanks to you—and then after—”

“I didn’t mean that. I meant. You’ve never? With anyone?” 

“It’s complicated,” Jin said, levelling an intense, tender look at Ryuzo that he’d have to be heartless or ignorant not to read. _Oh_. “Nor was I all that interested. In other people.” 

“Jin, I’d never… I never knew.” 

“I guess not,” Jin said. He dropped his hand, starting to squirm out from under Ryuzo. Ryuzo pressed a palm over Jin’s shoulder to keep him still, watching as Jin looked everywhere but his eyes. 

“Do you want to try it?” Ryuzo asked, even though he wasn’t sure if he should even be asking, with the both of them tipsy and off-balance like this. Jin’s lips parted, his ears reddening as he nodded slowly. “You’d better not regret this in the morning and punch me again,” Ryuzo said. Why not? Ryuzo had never been one for restraint. Besides. Messy as this might get, it wasn’t as though either of them had much time left. 

Ryuzo tangled his fingers through the loose strands at the back of Jin’s neck, pulling him closer, giving him plenty of time to jerk free. When Jin only let out a soft and shaky breath, Ryuzo kissed him. Clumsily at first, as Jin let out a wounded sound and pressed desperately closer, then gently, as Jin let Ryuzo lead, scratching his blunt nails down Ryuzo’s armour. They kissed until the fire burnt itself to embers, the stars winking alive above them. Forgetting who they were and all they had done, if only for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus art:  
>   
> Why yes the Triforce is the same as the Hojo clan's emblem, haha: https://kotaku.com/the-real-history-of-the-triforce-5823249?IR=T  
> —  
> The thing that happened to Western Xia, apparently one of the earliest (recorded) incidents of genocide. https://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/genghis-khan-dies


	5. Chapter 5

“I’m getting this terrible feeling of déjà vu,” Ryuzo said as he stood briefly on his stirrups by the base of the lighthouse near Komoda beach, looking out over a sea littered with a forest of masts. More than Jin could count. 

“Keep to the plan,” Masaru said. He looked surprisingly calm, given what they faced. “Though. Something doesn’t seem right.” 

“Really? I haven’t noticed,” Ryuzo said with a sharp laugh, looking out over the sea. 

“That isn’t what he means,” Jin said. He’d been thinking the same thing. 

The other Hōjō kashindan captain, Ishizuka Shintaro, nodded. Unlike Ryuzo, Shintaro was a salaried samurai, one of a number whom Clan Hōjō had brought along from the mainland. As far as Jin could tell, however, Masaru didn’t appear to treat his kashindan samurai any different from the commoner soldiers. His captains were a mix of both, even if they tended to defer to Shintaro. Including Ryuzo. 

“There should be more ships,” Shintaro said. A grave man of indeterminate age, Shintaro’s solemn face bore a thick moustache and a clean jaw. “Far more. Unless that general who Lord Shimura set free a few days ago was lying about their numbers.”

“She had no reason to lie,” Masaru said. 

“You mean this isn’t enough for you? You’re disappointed?” Ryuzo said, nodding at the coming tide. 

“Komoda likely isn’t the only place they’d be trying to establish a beachhead,” Jin said, guessing at Shintaro’s thoughts. “Or they might have split off some of their forces to attack Iki.” 

“Or both. They should have enough for that,” Masaru said, frowning to himself. “We can’t worry about Iki. I’m more concerned about multiple landings. If they flank us from behind, they’d wipe us out.” 

“They didn’t need to resort to fancy tactics last time,” Ryuzo said, “and they still wiped everyone out.” 

“Neither are we going to be charging headlong into battle now,” Shintaro said. Visible past the cliff line to their left with the tree line hacked short, portable wooden frames with projecting wooden spikes littered the slope up the beach, along with hidden explosive barrel caches. Lord Shimura had frowned when he’d seen the Hōjō clan’s preparations but hadn’t said a word of complaint. 

Jin began to speak and turned in his saddle at the sound of an approaching horse. Yuna looked grim as she wheeled her horse to a snorting halt before them. “They split their forces,” Yuna said, her mouth drawn into a thin line. “Just got reports of ships approaching Ariake Bay. Seen from the lighthouse. Lord Shimura’s called a meeting.” 

Masaru nudged his calves into his horse, turning its head. They cantered away from the lighthouse, through to the main encampment, which was in an uproar. Jin dismounted with the rest by the command tent. He followed Masaru through to where Lord Shimura, Masako, Hideyoshi, and some of the other lords were trying to listen to four pale messengers all at once. In the corner of the tent, looking visibly uncomfortable, Norio smiled as he recognised Jin, offering a little wave. The huge monk with his shaved head and simple robes looked out of place beside everyone in their clan armour. 

“Ariake too?” Lord Shimura asked Masako. 

She nodded. “At least five hundred ships.” 

Lord Shimura put down a marker on the map before him. Jin’s heart sank. Similar tokens littered the coastline, all the way up to Kamiagata. “This makes no sense,” Jin said, walking closer and surveying the map. “Seven years ago, Khotun Khan chose Komoda Beach—and only the beach—as his invasion point because the bay there is calm, deep, and wide. Here and here—Azamo Bay and Umugi Cove, for example. They’re too shallow and rocky for large ships.” 

“Four thousand ships can’t all make landfall at once at Komoda either,” Hideyoshi said. “Perhaps they’ve put their elites on the ships to Komoda, and the people they considered expendable on the others.” 

“Tsushima isn’t the mainland. They can’t afford to lose ships yet. Or too many men,” Masaru said, pulling at his chin as he studied the map. “A feint?”

“Why bother? They have overwhelming forces,” Ryuzo said. The lords ignored him.

Lord Shimura looked at Lady Masako. “If you want to return to Ariake,” he said, “I’ll understand.” 

She glared at him, though her fists clenched. “Am I the only commander here whom you’ve made that offer to?”

“Lady Masako—” Hideyoshi began with a condescending smile. 

“Don’t treat me any differently just because I’m a woman,” Masako told Lord Shimura with a bitter laugh, ignoring Hideyoshi. “We’ve had our differences, but you _are_ still the Jitō. Well? What are your orders? Lord Shimura.”

Lord Shimura glanced at Masaru and Hideyoshi. “How many men do we need to hold the beach?”

“We don’t have enough,” Masaru said, even as Hideyoshi said, “Clan Oda should be sufficient.” 

“Respectfully—” Shintaro began. 

“Feint or not, we can’t afford multiple undefended beachheads,” Lord Shimura cut in, frowning at the map. “I’ll remain here with the main Oda forces and our foot soldiers. Lady Masako, take your mounted retainers with you and return to Ariake. Lord Masaru, take your men south to Azamo Bay.” Samurai lords peeled out of the tent as Lord Shimura dispatched them. Masaru waited until the end before bowing and leaving with Shintaro and Ryuzo at his heels. 

Hideyoshi glanced at Jin, but at some silent gesture from Lord Shimura that Jin didn’t catch, he ducked out of the tent. Norio bowed. “Cedar Temple will pray for a victory,” he said. 

“Thank you,” Lord Shimura said. Norio bowed again and left. 

Once alone with his uncle, Jin said, “We have more numbers than seven years ago with Clan Oda’s forces, but splitting up on the cusp of battle is going to be bad for morale.” 

“It’s bad enough as it is.” Lord Shimura sounded exhausted. He rubbed his eyes, ashen and wan, then straightened and looked Jin over. “Unusual set of armour.” 

“I picked it up here and there,” Jin said. The villages who’d preserved the Gosaku set Jin wore had lovingly maintained it for the ages. Jin had tried to respect it just as much over the years. 

“It suits you somehow. Clanless as it is,” Lord Shimura said, though his words lacked bite. “You changed your sheaths as well.” 

“It’s still my family blade,” Jin said, wondering what Lord Shimura was trying to get at. His uncle shook his head tiredly, circling Jin to look at the map. He stumbled and tensed as Jin caught him, stiffening as Jin helped him over to sit on a chest. “I’ll make you some tea,” Jin said, trying to sound neutral. Under his grip, his uncle’s arm felt frailer than Jin remembered. 

“Don’t coddle me. You don’t have the right.” Lord Shimura jerked his arm out of Jin’s grip.

“I’m not trying to.” 

“Sake,” Lord Shimura said after a pause. “There’s a cask over there. Find yourself a cup.” 

Jin knelt at his uncle’s feet as he served Lord Shimura first, then poured some for himself. The Shimura sake was aromatic, slightly dry, but rich to the taste. Jin had missed it. Lord Shimura studied his cup reflectively as Jin refilled it. “I hear that you were Clan Oda’s preferred choice as Jitō,” Lord Shimura said. 

“I would have refused.” 

“For years, you were my preferred choice as well. That’s why the things you did during the first invasion hurt as much as they did. I thought that the boy in my care had grown up to be a compassionate, honourable man, worthy of the unusual name that his parents had given him.” 

“Benevolence,” Jin said, his tone wry. 

“Benevolence, and only benevolence,” Lord Shimura said, draining the cup. “I argued with your mother over it. For people of our birth and status, the names we give our children usually have at least two kanji. She remained adamant. Even your father couldn’t sway her. She said that it was all that she wanted her son to be. Because men born to power are so often ruined by power, and only a man of benevolent character could rise above it. Who could wield his strength for the good of everyone.” 

“I did what I thought I had to,” Jin said evenly, meeting his uncle’s gaze. “If I have to do it again now, to prevent Tsushima from becoming a second Western Xia, I will.” 

“As before,” Lord Shimura said, waving away a top-up, “your strength both humbles me and frightens me. An oni’s raw and merciless strength. I don’t know if it’s new, or if I just chose never to see it until I was forced to see it.” 

Frightens? Jin finished his own sake and took his uncle’s cup, setting them both aside. “As before, I wield that strength for your sake. Even if you don’t believe me.”

“Mine, or Tsushima’s?” Lord Shimura said, but made a dismissive gesture as Jin began to speak. “Leave.” 

Outside, Jin was surprised to find Ryuzo waiting. “Aren’t you meant to be going south with Lord Masaru?” Jin asked. 

“He said I might as well choose where I wanted to die, so I told him, in that case, I don’t much feel like riding my poor horse into the ground just to die in a fishing village that I’d never liked all that much,” Ryuzo said, his tone light but his gaze assessing, darting between Jin and the tent behind him. 

“Lord Masaru said that?”

“Not in so many words,” Ryuzo said as they walked away from the tent. He lowered his voice. “Are you all right?” 

“Fine,” Jin said. He wished he could say more, but the encampment was in chaos all around them. He wished he could draw Ryuzo aside and kiss him again. Days ago, the morning after had been awkward with Ryuzo hungover and quiet, and Jin partly convinced that it’d all been an alcohol-infused dream. They hadn’t had the time to do much more since, busy with final battle preparations.

“We should…” Ryuzo trailed off as Norio approached. “Later.”

#

The first wave of rowboats from the ships looked entirely occupied by Song Chinese in their heavy composite lamellar armour, the boats listing low in the water as they approached the shore. Once within bow range, a shout spread through the ranks, and pentagonal shields of wooden planks and thick bamboo rods shuttered over the boats.

Jin loosed his first arrow as Lord Shimura made a cutting gesture, aiming for a gap between the shields. He didn’t check to see if it met its target. With his next draw, he used his longbow, notching an explosive arrow. It blasted a hole in a shield as the boat made landfall, though, with another shout, the damaged shield and the screaming men behind it were pulled back, the shields shuffling to cover the gap. Fiery arrows sputtered out over the shields—likely painted with fireproof mud. Each shielded pod melded into a main body, a long worm scaled with shields that began to inch its way up the beach. 

Where were the Mongols? Or the Goryeo troops? Bristling with arrows, each gap in the shields quickly replaced, the shielded worm marched past the first set of pavises, its flanks bulging out briefly as men carefully shifted the spiked frames aside. As the worm shuffled past the first set of explosive barrels, Lord Shimura made another gesture. Ishikawa-sensei notched and loosed his bow in one fluid motion. The blast cored a hole in the flank of the worm, and it shuddered, the men within screaming in agony. Yet with another shout, the gap closed up, new shields rippling forward from behind in its place. 

Again and again, explosive barrels ignited only to do ultimately little. The archer beside Jin whimpered, his next shot going awry, only for Ryuzo to snarl and slap him on the back. “Oi, oi,” Ryuzo said, notching another arrow to his bow. “What are you afraid of, hm?” 

“We’re going to die,” the archer whispered, over and over. “We’re going to die.” More and more men poured down from the ships, joining the tail of the worm. 

“That’s what you think,” Ryuzo said, laughing harshly. “Don’t you know who you’re standing next to?” Ryuzo nodded at Jin even as Jin threaded another explosive arrow through a gap in the shields, making the worm shudder. “This is Lord Sakai. The Ghost of Tsushima. Don’t you remember what he did to the Mongols the last time around?” 

The archer gave Jin an incredulous look, even as the man beside him gasped and whispered to the soldier beside him in excitement. Jin frowned at Ryuzo, who winked at him over his mask. Then it got too busy to argue. The worm had come past the last line of barrels. Jin gripped Ryuzo on the arm. “Survive this,” Jin said. 

“Drinks on me after the battle,” Ryuzo agreed, clasping his wrist. Jin unslung the black powder bombs from his belt and stepped past the line of archers, breaking into a run. 

Cries of surprise followed behind him that he ignored, even as he lit the first bomb once he got close. Crossbow bolts shot out at him from gaps in the shields, but Jin was already twisting into a slide, rolling the first bomb across the sand, then the next. Explosions rocked through the head of the worm, its head shuddering apart with screams of pain. Jin had just enough time to notice General Liang Guiying’s shocked expression from behind the first ranks of groaning men before he loosed a smoke bomb and charged into the fray. 

He grabbed the first man within reach and stabbed his tanto through an unprotected gap between the man’s helmet and breastplate. Kicking the gurgling, choking warrior aside, Jin cursed as his tanto glanced off the scale armour of the next, jerking back from a blade thrust at his face. Further down the worm, Guiying yelled something that men echoed down their ranks. The closest segments split apart, shields rippling up to reveal a bristling rank of crossbowmen. Bolts whistled past into the ranks of the samurai and kashindan, punching through armour and cover. Shields came back down just as the samurai forces returned fire, though the left flank of the worm faltered as one of the shields toppled free. 

A long blast from a jinkai conch. Lord Shimura had called a charge. _No_ , Jin mouthed, even as he parried a sabre thrust and stabbed his opponent in his throat. Sure enough, the shields rippled up over crossbowmen. The first ranks of charging samurai were mowed down as they came—not just by bolts. Mixed among the ranks of crossbowmen were archers firing explosive arrows of their own, blowing apart anyone in the blast. Something shrilled overhead, fired from further down the beach, kicking up the sound of thunder behind Jin along with an explosion of sand and bloody parts, the shockwave knocking the closest men sprawling and making his ears ring. Jin roared. He lunged for one of the crossbow ranks, eating up the ground before the shields could come back down to protect their reload, slicing up the men in his way. 

The air grew thick with blood and the stench of dying men as they loosed their bowels, writhing in their death throes on the sand. Someone in Oda armour made it to him even with a crossbow bolt in his thigh, screaming as he hacked at a crossbowman, only to go down in a scrum of stabbing swords and sabres. Jin turned away, killing and killing again. The men before him began to falter and shake at his approach. Some scrambled out of his way with cries of fear. For each man who Jin killed, however, more took his place, the tide advancing relentlessly up the beach. 

Jin couldn’t make out where Ryuzo was, or his uncle. He briefly noticed Guiying clashing with a clan samurai, her face drawn up into a snarl under her helm as she met him blow for blow, but the chaos soon swallowed them up. The samurai ranks trembled but held. Returning arrow sallies cut down a set of crossbowmen before Jin could reach them, and he made short work of the rest. Someone struck him across his arm, making him roar. He jerked aside from the next blow and stabbed his katana through his attacker’s helm. A riderless kiso uma horse charged past, its flanks bleeding as it shrieked, kicking out in a panic. Jin lunged for it, catching hold of its saddle and hauling himself onto its back. He nudged it into a charge, using its momentum to cut through the warrior who got into his way. 

A bolt hit the horse in its throat before Jin could pick out where General Liang or any other enemy commander might be. He jumped free of the saddle as the horse collapsed, bearing down on the closest soldier and ramming his tanto through his face. Jin couldn’t breathe but for the blood, his breaths echoing harshly against his mask. The crossbowman before him screamed but loosed a bolt that caught Jin high on his shoulder. Jin grunted in pain but darted forward as the man fumbled his reload, cutting him down. 

It didn’t matter. Jin could see how this would end, preparations and all. There were just too many. Even Jin was getting pushed back, stumbling over bodies beneath him. The sand grew slippery and dark from all the blood. People were _still_ landing from the ships. As Jin parried another blow and thrust his blade through his attacker’s throat, the jinkai pulled two long blasts. Surprised, Jin nearly got decapitated by a soldier charging him from the flank with a huge two-handed sword. Someone calling a retreat? An arrow whistled overhead, feathering into the soldier’s throat. Jin turned, even as the archer who’d saved him went down from a well-aimed spear throw through the chest. 

His wounds burned, but Jin ignored them.

Up the slope, Jin could make out Hideyoshi mounting a horse, his kashindan closing ranks around him. He couldn't see Lord Shimura anywhere. Another double blast. The allied samurai and soldiers faltered, their retreat orderly only until Hideyoshi turned and rode away. It became a rout. A rousing cheer rose from the enemy ranks as they surged forward. 

Jin threw the last of his black powder bombs at a knot of men, and they went down screaming, blasted bloody and groping at their wounds as they rolled on the blackened sand. A smoke bomb disengaged him from the fray, but only briefly—as Jin tried to cross back to where he’d last seen his uncle, a spearman charged him, catching him across his flank with the tip of his spear. The sturdy Gosaku armour saved Jin from injury, but the force of the blow sent Jin sprawling off his feet, rolling until he fetched up against a groaning pile of bodies. As Jin struggled to get up, something struck him across the back of his head, knocking him back down. 

Through the dimming light, echoing from far away, it sounded like someone was calling his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speaking of names, Jin would have had at least 3. His childhood name, or yōmyō would likely end in -maru, his zokumyō would’ve reflected his order of birth (sort of like Ryuzo), and would likely have been Jintaro or Jinichiro, and his nanori would’ve had 2 kanji, producing a 4 syllable name, with auspicious tones, with likely one of the kanji granted from Lord Shimura’s name. Whatever that is. Since this fantasy historical Japan game compresses it all into just one name, the dialogue in this chapter reflects that, as do the names for other chars (Takemi, for example, wouldn't be called Takemi either at this point in his life).
> 
> Song Dynasty shields: https://greatmingmilitary.blogspot.com/2018/07/evolution-of-shields-in-china-part-3.html  
> more pretty armour: http://dragonsarmory.blogspot.com/2017/07/heavy-song-dynasty-armor.html
> 
> Yeah sorry Jin, Song Dynasty went all in with stuff like rockets, guns, bombs, cannons, and land mines rip, which the Mongols then adopted. TBH Jin probably shouldn’t have had access to explosive arrows/black powder bombs in Ghost of Tsushima. https://www.chinahighlights.com/travelguide/china-history/the-song-dynasty.htm  
> https://courses.lumenlearning.com/boundless-worldhistory/chapter/the-song-dynasty/
> 
> This is probably the point in a game where you end the tutorial and be like damn, that was a long tutorial ^^;;


	6. Chapter 6

Jin woke, groggy and disoriented. Pain throbbed through his skull as he tried to sit up, leaving him blinking spots from his vision and gasping for breath. The room around him swam, though it looked vaguely familiar. Someone close by gasped, stepping closer and kneeling beside him. It took a moment for Jin to focus on their face. A soft-chinned, pretty woman with a quick smile in a dark blue kimono. Mai, Masako’s partner. That meant—

“Adachi?” Jin mumbled, trying to sit up again. Mai helped him up with gentle fingers, pushing a cup of water against his mouth and helping him drink. 

“You live. It’s been a near thing,” Mai said. Jin concentrated on drinking. His throat felt parched, and bandages covered what he could see of his body under the loose yukata. More wound tightly around his head and brow.

Once Jin finished the cup, he coughed and cleared his throat. “How did I get here?” 

“That’d be me,” Yuna said, peeking in from the open shoji door with a sharp smile. “Jin, Jin. How many times is it now? Three? You’d better name your firstborn child after me at this rate.” 

“What if it’s a boy?” Mai said, though she laughed. 

“What’s wrong with ‘Sakai Yunataro’?” Yuna said, though she walked in and knelt beside Mai. “Maa, this is getting to be a habit of yours. Charging in with your ass exposed, getting the shit beat out of you, and me having to save the day. Meanwhile, the world burns down around our ears while you sleep.” 

“I thought you went with Lady Masako to Ariake,” Jin said as Mai pressed another cup of water into his hands. 

“I did, but then I had a bad feeling, and she told me to turn back. Good thing I did, hm? Everything was roundly fucked by the time I made it to the beach. I only managed to find you because that armour you like so much has such a big and fluffy hat. Though someone had tried their best to split it open.” 

“It’s not a hat, it’s a kabuto,” Jin muttered, even as Mai giggled.

“It _is_ very fluffy,” Mai said, “and very heavy. I don’t even know how you managed to get him onto a horse, let alone escape.” 

“I’d like to say I got lucky,” Yuna said, “but I don’t know. Felt like I keep getting _too_ lucky where Jin is concerned. The Gods love him, maybe. Whatever works. You’re here, we live.”

“Ryuzo?” Jin asked. 

Yuna’s smile faded. “I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention to much when I went in to save you. The Chinese were fairly thorough by all reports, though. So much for making nice with that lady General, hm?”

Jin’s chest ached, then a deeper fear struck him. “Then… my uncle?” 

Mai looked away. Yuna forced a smile. “Well—”

“Tell me,” Jin urged. 

“Lady Masako sent me back to Komoda with a few scouts a few days after I brought you here. To check for survivors and all that. We found some people in the woods and sent them over, but. Komoda beach. They’d built these big pyres full of bodies,” Yuna said. She nibbled on her lower lip, uncharacteristically hesitant. 

Jin steeled himself, even as his heart sank into his stomach. “Tell me.” 

Yuna clenched her fists in her lap. “I saw a head impaled on a spear on the slope down to the beach. Couldn’t make out the face, there was too much damage. But the katana stuck into the ground beside it, and the broken armour stacked under the spear… I’m sorry, Jin. Some of the survivors said they saw Lord Shimura go down to crossbow fire.” 

Jin dropped the cup with a hoarse sound of grief, the water spilling over the mat beside him. Mai flinched to her feet. “I’ll. Get that cleaned up.” She shuffled away, wiping her eyes. 

“Lady Masako didn’t want me to tell you until you got better,” Yuna said, “but I don’t think you could’ve borne not knowing. I’m very sorry.” 

“No, I. I had to know.” Jin rubbed at his eyes, hot tears burning down his cheeks, growing dizzy. His throat ached as he bit down a sob, trying to swallow the howl clawing up from his gut. 

“Jin.” Yuna patted his back. “You’d make them pay, I know—”

“Please. Don’t.” Jin’s voice shook as he spoke. Disoriented, he started to feel light-headed as Yuna hummed and stroked his back, the way he’d seen her gentle a frightened horse. Mai returned, judging from the shuffling footsteps and the sound of someone mopping up the spill. Only then did Jin recover enough composure to ask, “What about Lady Masako? And Ariake?” 

“We’re fine for now,” Mai said, forcing a brave smile. “Don’t worry. Rest and recover.” 

“Tell me the truth,” Jin said, looking between Yuna and Mai. 

“Well,” Mai said, even as Yuna exhaled and told her, “I said he’d be like this.” 

“We nearly lost him to his fever several times over the last few days,” Mai said, pursing her lips. “Couldn’t even wake him. He _should_ be resting.”

“He’s awake now. How about you find and tell Lord Takemi that Jin’s going to be fine?” Yuna asked. “That’d stop him from fretting so much. Honestly, that boy. If I were him, I’d be more worried about his mother.” 

Mai let out a wry laugh. “Takemi thinks his mother is the incarnation of a God. It’s hard to be worried about a God.”

Yuna sniffed. “He’s seven years old. How can he still believe in folktales?” 

“I’d let him believe in anything that gives him comfort,” Jin said. Yuna rolled her eyes, even as Mai got to her feet and left the room. “Lord Masaru?” Jin asked. 

“We’ve only got what my scouts and I have managed to figure out. Wait. I’ll get the map.” Yuna rose to her feet, padding out of the room. Alone, tears welled back up in Jin’s eyes. Regret ate through him. He should’ve said more to his uncle before the fight—no. He should’ve spent the last seven years trying to earn Lord Shimura’s forgiveness. Or at least his understanding. Instead, Jin had let shame and stubbornness keep him from trying too hard. Now it was too late. 

Yuna returned to find Jin staring out into space, lost in his thoughts. She sat down and started to open the map, then exhaled and thrust the wrapped bundle in her hands at Jin. “I thought I might wait, but. Since I’d already told you. Sorry. I couldn’t sneak off with anything else without it being too obvious.” 

Jin slowly unwrapped the old cloth, already knowing from its shape and weight what he would find. His uncle’s tanto. Jin traced the familiar pattern on the sheath numbly. 

“Sorry,” Yuna murmured again. “I’d have gone for the katana, except they’d piled rocks against it and wedged it in, and they’d have noticed that going missing immediately, so—”

“Thank you. For this,” Jin said, wrapping the tanto back up. “It’s more than I’d have expected. I… thank you.” 

“I wish I could do more. I never liked your uncle, but he was a good man. Or tried to be.” 

“He was.” Jin tucked the tanto beside him and forced a wan smile. “The map, please.” 

“Right.” Yuna smoothed the map down between them and took several tokens from a bag within her haori. “A force alighted at Komoda, headed by General Liang Guiying. As far as we can tell, it was mostly made up of the Mongols’ most recent conscripts. So, mostly the Song Chinese.” 

Jin nodded. “I noticed.”

“In the meantime, General Fan Wenhu and his Yuan Chinese forces came ashore near Komatsu. While others alighted here and here.” Yuna set down tokens over Azamo Bay and along the coast of Izuhara and Toyotama, with a couple at Kamiagata. “A largely Goryeo force under General Kim Bang-gyeong tried to take Ariake Bay,” Yuna said, peppering Ariake with a distressing number of tokens. 

“Ariake’s fallen?” Jin asked, trying to make out the map. 

“We’ve fought them to a stalemate, but it’s a fragile thing so far. General Kim might consolidate his forces and commit to a full assault on Ariake. Or not. It’s probably embarrassing that a defensive force headed by a bunch of women and peasants are holding him off,” Yuna said, though she smiled flatly. 

“Lord Masaru was in Azamo Bay,” Jin said. 

“I can’t make out much of what’s happened there, but I think the Hōjō clan managed to hold Azamo village. The fortifications are pretty good, as both of us know, and it’s gotten better over seven years. However, that’s the only part of Azamo that the Hōjō clan is holding. Goryeo forces have occupied the rest. As with Tsutsu and Komatsu. Hiyoshi’s now under Yuan control via General Fan, as is Komoda and Kashine. That’s the good news.”

“Good?” Jin said, horrified. 

“Believe me, it’s good,” Yuna said. She exhaled, dropping black tokens over Toyotama. “The Chinese and Goryeo forces occupied the villages but allowed survivors to escape into the forests. The Mongols landed at Yarikawa here and swept across Toyotama after they overcame the settlement. Staked Yarikawa Ujimasa’s head and those of his children out at the front. Burnt everyone else’s bodies in a pyre. Women, children, _everyone_. As far as we know, Akashima’s been razed too. Not sure about Umugi Cove. Or the rest, but. It’s not likely good.”

“Clan Oda?” Jin asked, gritting his teeth. 

“Under siege at Castle Shimura. Lord Hideyoshi declared himself Jitō and ordered Lady Masako to rally her forces and kill her way north to join him.” Yuna laughed mirthlessly. “You should’ve heard what she said. I never knew she had such a vast vocabulary of curses.” 

“If she doesn’t respond, he might name her a traitor,” Jin said, troubled. 

“She’s going to. Something about being a weak woman with her hands full holding Ariake, and how it’d be nice to have the new Jitō’s support,” Yuna said, chuckling. “Hasn’t sent out the letter yet, though. We can’t spare any soldiers, the seas are too dangerous thanks to the new blockade, and Oda’s messenger isn’t in a huge hurry to get back for some reason.” 

“The other clans?” 

“They’ve either been wiped out, or they’ve gone to bolster Clan Oda at Castle Shimura, leaving the people under their care to die.” Yuna made a rude gesture. “Typical.” 

Jin rubbed a hand slowly over his face. Seven years ago, he’d freed Tsushima near single-handedly, with help from just a small number of people. He could do it again. He had to. Setting his grief aside, Jin said, “Ishikawa-sensei? Norio?” 

“Haven’t heard from them.” Yuna stared soberly at Jin. “When Lady Masako—”

Jin gasped. Striding into view past the open shoji door was the Ghost. Scaled armour and bound breastplate and all, with black blades at his hip and the snarling mask over his face. As he turned pale, Yuna turned around sharply, her hand flying to the knife at her hip, then she laughed loudly. The Ghost looked over at them and relaxed. “Ah! Lord Sakai. You wake.” 

That voice. “Captain Kawano?” Jin asked, incredulous. The captain of the Adachi kashindan. "That armour..."

Kawano pulled the mask off his face, flushing in embarrassment. “This? I’m sorry. I hope it wasn’t a shock. I’ll get changed.” 

“No, no. Come here. We might as well explain Lady Masako’s strategy with a visual aid,” Yuna said with a cheeky grin. Kawano shuffled over, pulling off his sandals and striding into the room to kneel beside Jin. On close inspection, the armour wasn’t an exact copy of Jin’s—the haidate wasn’t made with chainmail, and there weren’t any chains over the kote arm greaves. Following Jin’s curious stare, Yuna said, “We improved on my brother’s design. He wouldn’t have minded.” 

“Maybe we should’ve gotten Lord Sakai’s approval, like I recommended,” Kawano muttered. He flinched as Yuna laughed and smacked him on his plated sleeve. 

“Since when has Lady Masako needed anyone’s permission for anything? Besides,” Yuna said, shooting Jin an amused look, “she was worried that Jin would blab it to everyone and end up getting the idea nixed in its infancy. I’ve got a set too. As does Lady Masako, and few of our most capable fighters.” 

“An army of Ghosts?” Jin said, confused. “Why?” 

“Because a man can’t be everywhere, but a ghost can,” Yuna said. 

“It’s been good for morale,” Kawano said, if reluctantly. “If unorthodox even by Yarikawa standards.” 

“Morale? Pssh. Our unorthodox tactics are the only reason why Ariake’s still largely under Adachi control. Though,” Yuna said, sobering, “it might not last. General Kim Bang-gyeong isn’t a fool. Once he succeeds in consolidating his forces in Izuhara, he won’t need General Arakhan or General Fan Wenhu’s support to overwhelm us. By all reports, there were 10,000 Goryeo troops.” 

“That’s a couple thousand more soldiers than the ones we faced during the first invasion in total,” Jin said, troubled.

“We’ve cut down a number of them since, and they didn’t escape fighting the Hōjō clan unscathed, but yes. Still far more of them than we can handle,” Yuna said, pressing her lips together. “And that’s assuming that General Fan Wenhu doesn’t decide to join in the fun.” 

“Reports indicate a competitive rivalry between Fan Wenhu and Kim Bang-gyeong. Pride might force the Goryeo to fight on their own. However, as Yuna-san said, it’s still not ideal,” Kawano said. 

“If I could assassinate General Kim—” Jin began.

“You? I’d see you walk in a straight line without falling over first,” Yuna said with a snort. 

“The General’s camp is heavily fortified—they’ve built a defensive position at Azamo Bay. Once you’re feeling better, we could use your help. Until then,” Kawano said, rising to his feet and bowing, “allow us to borrow your mantle.”

#

Recovery was slower than Jin liked, leaving him with little to do but grieve. Even Takemi began giving Jin a wide berth after a while. Jin spent most of his time on a quiet viewing platform in the Adachi holdings, wishing that he were seven years younger all over again. It hadn’t felt this difficult to recover from serious injuries then. He could feel it affecting the strength of his resolve, even his overall physical health. He’d have to train, but there was no time to train.

Yuna tried to talk to Jin now and then, but she and Kawano were busy, often leaving the holdings for days on end. Jin itched to follow them. To do _something_. All he could do was sit with his regrets. Even Ryuzo—there’d been so much more to say. Reports out of Komoda weren’t good. 

Jin practised katas by himself in the late evening, gritting his teeth as it pulled against his wounds. As he took a break, gasping in pain as he wet his mouth with a gourd of water, Masako said, “If you want to kill yourself doing something, at least wait until you’re well enough to return to the front lines.” 

Setting down the gourd, Jin said, “I know what I can take.”

“Spare me. I’ve had one stubborn husband and two stubborn sons, one of whom was older than you are.” Masako walked into Jin’s line of sight and sized him up with a critical eye, dressed in a kimono and hakama with her blades at her hip. She held another katana beside her, its dark blue scabbard decorated with the floral Adachi mon. 

Jin bit back his retort. Masako didn’t deserve his temper. Not after what she’d done for him—and Tsushima. Unlike Jin, she’d managed to preserve the people she loved. “I accept your guidance,” Jin said, keeping his tone humble. 

“Don’t push yourself, but I might need you to go to work sooner than you should afford to,” Masako said, looking tired. “General Kim Bang-gyeong is almost at my gates. Thankfully, pride’s kept him from calling in reinforcements from the surrounding area. He can’t bear the idea that he might need them to deal with an old woman and her peasants.” 

“The ‘old woman and her peasants’ held out the longest against the invading forces,” Jin said with a wry smile. “I wouldn’t call General Kim’s problem his pride, but ignorance.” 

“Whatever it is, he’s coming close to destroying everything I’ve worked for out of sheer numbers, and he isn’t a half-bad strategist. That armour you were wearing is still under repair, and we couldn’t find the rest of your gear anywhere, but I’ve got a set of our version of the Ghost armour for you. If you want it.”

“I’ll wear it with pride,” Jin said, and meant it. 

“Also, this.” Masako presented Jin with the katana in her hands. “We couldn’t recover your family’s blade from Komoda beach, but you’ve got your uncle’s tanto. Given you’re then just missing a decent katana, take this. It’s not as fine a blade as the one you used to wear, but it’d serve you for now.” 

“An Adachi blade?” Jin asked, accepting the katana respectfully and drawing part of it to check the hamon. The blade was finely made, if not as refined as the clan heirloom that Jin had loved and reinforced. 

“It was Harunobu’s. Not the family blade—we lost that seven years ago. It’s the katana he used as a young man until he inherited his father’s.” 

“Shouldn’t you give this to Lord Takemi?” Jin asked, surprised. 

“Have it with our blessing,” Masako said with a wan smile. “Besides, that boy said he’d prefer to inherit his mother’s blade. When the time comes.”

“May it be a long time since,” Jin said, bowing. “I’ll wear this with pride. In the memory of a true kensei, an honourable man who never knew defeat—in a fair fight.”

“Wear it in memory of what happens to honourable men who try to fight fair when their enemy doesn’t,” Masako said as Jin respectfully sheathed the katana at his obi along with his uncle’s tanto. “Now come with me. Instead of reopening your wounds chopping at the air, you might as well assist me while I discuss strategy with Kawano and the others. That is, if you’re feeling up to it.” Masako stared at Jin in an open challenge. 

Compassion would have folded Jin back into his grief, as would kindness. A challenge, however—something like that called to the uglier parts of Jin’s soul, a part that he’d both regretted and embraced. A part that had once nearly beaten his closest friend to death in a friendly duel, shaming him before the lords of the island. A part that had kept him alive despite all odds, seven years ago—that had helped him accomplish the impossible. Jin nodded, straightening up. “Lead on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Were you expecting anything less than Deus Ex Yuna, haha. 
> 
> The first invasion had conflicting records, but Lord Sukekuni of the Sō clan of Tsushima (Jitō at the time, aka real life Lord Shimura) described it as facing 8,000 warriors on 900 ships, facing the clan’s 80 mounted samurai and their retinue. 
> 
> The second invasion recorded numbers are reportedly an exaggeration at 142,000 enemy troops on 4,400 ships, but is supposed to be several times more than the first invasion. I’ve reduced the number of ships from 4,400 to 4,000. Counting it mathematically from the Sō clan’s records, that’d make it an invading force of approx 36,000. I’ve divided it into 10,000 Mongols/Yuan, 10,000 Goryeo, and 16,000 Song Chinese for ease of reference since this is a fantasy retelling.
> 
> This is also the annoying part of a sequel game where your swole character from the first game ends up without his badass upgraded stuff, his sweet moves, and his health bars. And has to start a new minigame where you send off people on missions. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter changes the overall rating of the fic to E. My usual longfic readers would already know this, but tbh my longfics are hardly ever that smutty. Most of this fic will still be T-rated.

The Goryeo soldiers in scale armour spread out as they explored the collection of fishing huts by the sea, talking amongst themselves as they pointed out fish freshly left to dry. Archers stayed alert on the perimeter as the small squad looked through the empty houses, furniture packed up hastily as though their occupants had recently fled. Soldiers relaxed as the leader signalled an all-clear, sheathing their weapons and joking among themselves, the archers walking over to regroup. 

Ryuzo surged out from the concealed pit, shouldering aside sandy reeds and a bamboo lid. He grabbed the leader by the back of his helmet and jerked his head to a side, plunging his tanto into the leader’s bared throat. As the man gurgled and clutched at the spurting wound, the other soldiers froze, shocked. Pits opened out of nowhere, people lunging out with battle cries, falling on the soldiers with gutting knives and butcher’s blades. Finesse went out of the window. Ryuzo spun on his heel and notched an arrow to his half-bow, taking down an archer further up the beach. He ducked a blow from a sword by a screaming, bleeding soldier, tripping him up by hooking out his ankle. Before Ryuzo could draw a blade to finish him off, a pair of fisherwomen fell on the soldier with their gutting knives, snarling as they cut his throat. 

The little skirmish was over quickly. Ryuzo barely even picked up a sweat. He oversaw people dragging the bodies to the woods for burial and waited until all evidence of the pitched battle had been washed off the beach to his satisfaction. Waving off the thanks of the fisher-folk he’d helped to train over the last few days, Ryuzo whistled his horse over and mounted up.

“Don’t get too confident,” Ryuzo told the woman in charge of the tiny settlement. “Keep an eye out, and if there’re too many coming, either cast off into the sea or try and make it to Azamo Bay.” 

“We will. Thank you,” she said, smiling up at Ryuzo through her bandana-wrapped face. “You’re a brave, kind man.” 

The praise twisted uneasily in Ryuzo’s gut. He nodded curtly and rode off, ducking his head down as he angled his horse towards the forest. Brave? Kind? Ryuzo was neither. Nor was Lord Masaru. The strategy that Masaru had devised was only going to delay the inevitable and make things worse. The invading forces in Azamo had largely spared civilians for now, but they wouldn’t soon.

Goryeo and Mongol patrols blanketed the roads. Ryuzo steered clear of them, tired as he was. Seven years back, the Mongol patrols sometimes entertained themselves by capturing people, torturing them, then releasing them to be hunted down for fun like rabbits. That hadn’t changed. Thankfully, the Goryeo patrols didn’t appear to enjoy the same hobbies. 

His horse whickered and picked up the pace once the fortified fishing village of Azamo Bay came into view. Ryuzo let it have its head, though he stayed cautious. They’d lost one of the samurai yesterday near here, picked off by a longbow. Pity. The man had survived the shitstorm on Komoda Beach, like Ryuzo, only to die within sight of safety. 

The gates opened just wide enough to admit Ryuzo once he got close. He bit down yawns as he dismounted by the stables and handed off the reins, threading through the reordered village with its new interlocking defensive barriers, repainted every few days with fireproof mud. After days out pinging between one settlement after another, Ryuzo was ready for a hearty meal and a long nap, maybe not in that order. Force of habit had him make the trek up to the clan housing that Masaru had converted for Hōjō use, since the small daimyō clan that had been running Azamo over the last few years had perished during the initial assault. 

Ryuzo found Masaru and Shintaro sparring with bokken in the inner courtyard, Masaru grey-faced and shaky, Shintaro openly concerned but quiet. As Shintaro caught sight of Ryuzo, he lowered his bokken with a relief he couldn’t hide. “You’re going to reopen all your stitches,” Ryuzo told Masaru as he walked over. 

“Don’t lecture me,” Masaru said, though he allowed Shintaro to support him over to the engawa to rest. “How did it go?” 

“The farm was quiet. The fishing village got exciting.” Ryuzo related a brief description of the short battle and the clean-up. “Not sure how well they’d do if the soldiers were paying more attention, though. Should’ve been suspicious how many straw mats and bamboo covers there were on the floor, even hidden in the sand." 

“None of the invading troops would’ve visited Tsushima before. They wouldn’t know what’s suspicious and what’s not,” Masaru said, speaking between the occasional gasps for breath. He’d caught a nasty gash across his thigh during the defence of Azamo Bay that had gotten infected, and was still recovering from his fever. Thankfully, Masaru had foreseen the possibility and had long worked out a defensive strategy with Shintaro that didn’t require Masaru’s continuous direction. 

“Surely they’d realise what’s happening sooner or later, given you’ve been copying their tactics,” Ryuzo said. The Hōjō clan and its kashindan had studied all the reports of Mongol resistance that they could find over the years. Masaru’s current strategy was heavily influenced by the Sambyeolcho Rebellion, which had resisted the Mongol regime in Goryeo until the Mongols and their Goryeo allies crushed them on Jeju Island. 

“Adapting,” Masaru corrected, though he seemed more amused than annoyed. “A strategy of attrition is the only conservative defensive strategy we have available to us with our numbers against theirs.”

“I know, I know. I’ve heard this from you,” Ryuzo said. Forced inactivity tended to make Masaru garrulous. 

“More importantly,” Shintaro said, “we’ve received news from Ariake. A messenger made it here.” 

“Through the blockade?” Ryuzo whistled. “Thought that wasn’t possible.” Adachi scouts had tried to reach them early on but had given up after taking too many losses. Shintaro hadn’t bothered sending men north in return. 

“I wouldn’t be that surprised,” Masaru said.

“Fine words from a man who spent the first part of this shit show delirious or unconscious,” Ryuzo shot back. Masaru sniffed. 

“You’d find the messenger in the guest housing, resting. Talk to him,” Shintaro said with an odd expression on his face that Ryuzo couldn’t read, waving him off. 

Why did Ryuzo have to check on an Adachi messenger? Was Masaru going to send Ryuzo north to Ariake after this? Ryuzo hoped not. He grudgingly respected Lady Masako for holding Ariake on her own, but she had no love for him. Grumbling under his breath, Ryuzo inclined his head and circled the main clan house, making his way to the guest section. Once he got out of earshot of Masaru and Shintaro, Ryuzo sang snatches of a song he’d overheard from the fishing settlement, humming over the bits he didn’t remember. Damned thing had lodged itself in his brain like a worm. 

As Ryuzo circled the karesansui garden that connected the main clan housing at the guest section, someone gasped. Ryuzo turned in time to get tackled, their combined weight staggering him and nearly sending him sprawling into the swept gravel. As Ryuzo yelped, hand jumping for the hilt of his tanto, Jin hugged him tightly and buried a strangled sound against Ryuzo’s throat. 

Ryuzo could only stare blankly at Jin as Jin clutched at his back, scratching his nails over the patterned robe that Ryuzo wore over his armour. Words rose and died in his throat until, wonderingly, Ryuzo patted Jin’s shoulders. “Jin?” Ryuzo whispered. 

“You live,” Jin murmured, his voice shaky. “I thought… thank the Gods.” 

“Got lucky,” Ryuzo said. Chasing down crossbowmen meant that Ryuzo had been at the very edge of the battlefield when Lord Hideyoshi had called a retreat. He hadn’t seen Jin anywhere, but Ryuzo had decided to hope for the best and leave. Jin fought like a demon, after all, so why worry all that much? Days after with no word of Jin from anywhere, Ryuzo had regretted that sentiment. “We should move inside.” 

Jin passively let Ryuzo tug him past the garden into the guest housing, leaving their sandals under the engawa. Ryuzo picked an unoccupied room at random, pulling Jin through and shoving the shoji door behind them. As he started to ask Jin how he was, he noticed a familiar tanto at Jin’s hip. Ryuzo grimaced. “Shit. We heard the rumours but couldn’t be sure. I’m sorry about your uncle, Jin.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jin said, his hands twisting into fists at Ryuzo’s collar. He leaned in, his breath hot, eyes wild. “I don’t want to talk about anything.” Jin kissed Ryuzo so hard on the mouth that Ryuzo cut his lip on Jin’s teeth. Ryuzo flinched, his hands patting over Jin’s back, up into his hair. It took a few attempts to gentle Jin’s temper, to get him to allow Ryuzo to lead. Jin shook against him as Ryuzo tried to walk them further into the room. They ended up sinking into an awkward heap on the tatami as they kissed.

Panting, Ryuzo somehow managed to shrug out of some of his armour, shoving the pieces aside. He ran his hands curiously over Jin’s. “Looks different,” Ryuzo said, studying the not-quite-Ghost armour. 

“Long story,” Jin said, pulling impatiently at the knots on Ryuzo’s haidate. With each piece of their armour that they pushed aside, the kisses they shared grew more urgent. Jin exhaled noisily once they were both down to the yoroi hitatare clothes that they wore beneath their armour. Jin’s was of finer make than Ryuzo’s this time, likely a borrowed set from Clan Adachi, judging from the pattern on his sleeves. Ryuzo ran his fingertips teasingly up from Jin’s collar to his throat, and Jin shivered, pulling awkwardly at Ryuzo’s hakama-shita shirt. 

“Do you want to…” Ryuzo trailed off, glancing belatedly at the shoji door. This room was hardly that private. 

“Want to what?” Jin asked, flushed and pliant beneath him. 

“I think it’s better just to show you,” Ryuzo said, nuzzling Jin’s jaw. “Tell me if you need me to slow down. Or stop.” 

“All right,” Jin said, innocently puzzled. He sucked in a soft gasp as Ryuzo undid their obi, pulling their shirts and undershirts open, arching as Ryuzo kissed down Jin’s throat to the new bandages wrapping his chest. 

“How bad is it?” Ryuzo asked, pressing a brushing kiss on the bandages under Jin’s chest. 

“Worst of it’s over,” Jin said, typically Jin. Ryuzo shook his head, bypassing the rest and nuzzling kisses down to Jin’s belly. The muscle quivered under his mouth as Jin stifled a laugh, then yelped as Ryuzo playfully licked him. “Tickles,” Jin complained.

“Hush.” Ryuzo didn’t want to think about anyone catching them in here. Not that something like this wasn’t permitted in Masaru’s retinue—Masaru and Shintaro were hardly subtle themselves. Ryuzo just didn’t want anyone to see Jin like this—blushing and vulnerable, a hand clapped over his mouth and squirming as Ryuzo gave the bulge in Jin’s fundoshi a playful squeeze. This was a part of Jin that Ryuzo would keep to himself if he could. 

“Oh,” Jin whispered as he pushed tentatively into Ryuzo’s grip. 

“Surely you’ve tried your own hand, at least,” Ryuzo said. The flesh he could feel twitched eagerly against his palm through the thin cloth. 

“This isn’t the same,” Jin said, looking anxiously into Ryuzo’s gaze. “Are you sure that you want to do this for me?”

“You don’t know what I want to do to you,” Ryuzo said, smirking as he undid Jin’s fundoshi and pulled it loose, “but I’ll give you an idea.” He bent, kissing the tip of Jin’s thickened cock. Nice and sizeable, and a little curved. Ryuzo gave it another appreciative kiss. 

Jin gasped, turning a deeper shade of red and jerking under Ryuzo’s grip. “R-Ryuzo!” 

“Not so loud,” Ryuzo said, though it was a pity that they had to stay quiet. Hearing Jin breathe his name like that brought an answering, sticky pulse of lust that shook through his gut, stirring his cock against his thigh.

“That’s hardly very… isn’t it dirty?” Jin stammered, both horrified and fascinated. 

“I’ve hardly done anything,” Ryuzo said with mock innocence. Ryuzo bent, licking up Jin’s cock from root to tip in a slow, wet swipe that had Jin seizing up under him with a cry that he stifled poorly against his wrist. “Shit,” Ryuzo said, laughing. “You’re going to bring the whole clan down on us at this rate.” As Jin shivered but didn’t answer, Ryuzo sobered. “Jin. Is this all right? It’s fine if it’s too much and you want to stop. I’m not going to get upset or anything.” 

Jin tried to speak, then ducked his gaze, clamping his hand over his mouth. With his free hand, he curled his fingers into Ryuzo’s hair, tugging him shyly but insistently back down. Ryuzo chuckled, nudging Jin’s thighs apart against his shoulders. He took his time fondling Jin’s tightening, heavy balls, teasing Jin with little licks as he rolled them in his palm. As Jin let out a stifled whimper of distress, overstimulated, Ryuzo relented and nuzzled back up Jin’s cock, breathing him in as he kissed up to the tip. 

“Ryuzo, we… aah!” Jin hastily clapped his hand back over his mouth as Ryuzo sucked him in, trying to relax his jaw. It’d been a while since Ryuzo had done this for someone, and he didn’t remember the last time he’d sucked cock sober. Ryuzo pinned Jin’s hips down with his hands as Jin jerked, drinking him deeper as thighs tensed against his shoulders. 

Jin’s spare hand clenched tight in Ryuzo’s hair, and Ryuzo hissed, twitching up. “Careful,” he said, shaking off Jin’s hand. 

“Sorry!” Jin said, red-faced and teary-eyed. Gods, Jin looked like such a feast. Ryuzo was sure that his heart just skipped a beat, aching even through the lust that welled within him at the sight. He hid the strangeness of it all by smirking and spitting in his palm, stroking Jin slowly. 

“Sure you’re all right?” Ryuzo asked. Jin nodded, clamping both his hands over his mouth and curling against Ryuzo, his heels digging into the tatami mat. Ryuzo grunted, pushing a palm between his thighs to press the heel of his hand against his aching cock. Jin looked so damned good like this—Ryuzo wanted to do far more to him than just suck his cock. He wanted to lick Jin open, feel Jin come apart on his fingers; wanted to mount Jin, mark him. 

With a shaky gasp, Ryuzo bent back down, sucking Jin in roughly, tugging at him each time Jin’s cock pressed against the back of Ryuzo’s throat. Setting up a hard, hungry rhythm that had Jin’s whimpers escaping from the seal of his hands, that had Jin tremble and buck uncontrollably under Ryuzo’s grip, until with a hoarse moan Jin couldn’t quite stifle, Jin shook into his release. 

“Shit!” Ryuzo coughed, jerking back and wiping his mouth, catching the rest in his palm and coughing. “Some warning would’ve been nice.” 

Jin stammered something that could’ve been an apology, blinking slowly. As Ryuzo sat up, Jin pushed himself clumsily to his knees, grabbing handfuls of Ryuzo’s shirt and hauling him over for a messy kiss. Jin tensed briefly at the taste of himself, but it didn’t seem to bother him for long, panting shallowly as he chased the bitter fluid on Ryuzo with careful swipes of his pink tongue. Ryuzo grit his teeth, pressing the heel of his palm back against his cock. Harder, this time. 

As Jin caught his breath, he said, “I’ll… I’ll try that. What you just did with me.” 

“Don’t worry about it. Takes practice,” Ryuzo said, gritting his teeth against the lust he felt at the thought, of Jin between his thighs, looking up at him through those long lashes—

“So let me practice,” Jin said, his stubbornness emerging under his embarrassment. 

“Later,” Ryuzo said, pulling Jin closer. He’d burst if he didn’t get relief now, and he was in no mood to give Jin the time for any new learning experiences. 

Wetting his palm with spit, Ryuzo roughly undid his clothes and showed Jin how to grasp him, thrusting into their linked hands with his free arm locked over Jin’s shoulders. Already close to the brink, it didn’t take long, riding each gritty pulse of pleasure closer to the edge. Ryuzo kissed Jin to stifle his cry as he soiled their joined fingers, their world for one perfect moment folding down around them and them only, leaving nothing else.

#

“We can’t spare soldiers to come to Clan Adachi’s defence,” Masaru said as they gathered in the war room after dinner. “You must have seen the state that Azamo is in on your ride here.”

Jin nodded. “Ryuzo explained matters to me. This ‘Sambyeolcho’ strategy of yours is unexpected.”

“Is it?” Masaru said, amused. “It’s the same thing you did seven years ago in a way, save on a larger scale. Similar to what Lady Masako has done in Ariake, even. According to what you’ve just described.” 

“You’re using everyone,” Jin said, a little accusingly. “She’s only using her kashindan and her soldiers.” 

“My mounted forces suffered heavy losses defending against landfall at Azamo Bay,” Masaru said, “and we’ve lost almost all the foot soldiers who we left to defend Komoda Beach. Needs must. There’s no point trying to defend all of Azamo when we can’t.” 

“Better to turn it all into a massive trap?” Jin retorted.

“Better to cede what can be easily ceded, while empowering and arming those who are able and willing to protect themselves,” Masaru said evenly. “In the Sambyeolcho Rebellion, a monk with a bow slew a general. Why can’t the same thing happen here?” 

“I do not deny that it’s worked well,” Jin said, glancing at the piles of reports at Masaru’s desk. “I’m just surprised that such a tactic emerged from a samurai clan as preeminent as Clan Hōjō.” 

“Your life here has given you a skewed idea of what samurai clans are capable of. Clan Hōjō has endured for well over a hundred years. More, we’ve thrived. We haven’t done that by staying hidebound,” Masaru said.

“The Shikken would approve of your tactics?” 

“If they work, he’ll approve. The difference between the tactics I use and yours is that I use them in my cousin’s name. I’m not defying his will. I was sent here to try and stop the Mongol invasion, through whatever means I deem necessary.”

“Or slow it down,” Shintaro said. 

“We’ve done that much,” Masaru conceded, inclining his head.

“Won’t last,” Shintaro predicted, glancing out of the window. “Once Arakhan’s done razing Toyotama and Kamiagata, he’d come back south and finish the job.” 

“Or he might sail off to Iki Island. We’ve wasted enough of their time as it is, and they can’t keep their vast army supplied forever. Especially if they’re planning on salting and burning the ground they conquer,” Masaru said. 

“I haven’t heard any options that fill me with hope,” Ryuzo said from where he knelt beside Jin.

“Hope’s in rare supply given the odds we face.” Masaru looked apologetic. “Tell Lady Masako that the best we can do is try to slow down any reinforcements coming to her from Azamo. Or warn her, at the least.” 

“She’d have to be content with that.” Jin looked visibly disappointed as he got to his feet. “I’ll leave within the night. It’d be easier to dodge patrols.” 

Masaru and Shintaro glanced at Ryuzo. “What?” Ryuzo asked. 

“Lord Sakai is your childhood friend, isn’t he? If you’d like to accompany him, you’re welcome to do so,” Masaru said. 

Tempting. Ryuzo wavered. “Well—”

“Leave tomorrow,” Shintaro said, before Ryuzo could respond. “I have something I want to try tonight with the ships moored beyond the bay, and I’d be honoured if the Ghost was willing to help.” 

“Sounds interesting,” Jin said as he sat back down beside Ryuzo. “Tell me more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe I’m reading Korean military strategy articles for this story. The monograph has several typos and should be taken with a pinch of salt given the corresponding articles I’ve been reading, but I presume the author wasn’t writing in their first language: https://apps.dtic.mil/sti/pdfs/AD1083525.pdf 
> 
> Sneak tactics used by samurai: Not sure about the first invasion, but they definitely used sneaky tactics during the second, especially at the Battle of Kōan.


	8. Chapter 8

“I feel like the Gods are punishing me by making me relive parts of seven years ago over and over again,” Ryuzo muttered as their small collection of boats approached the moored Goryeo fleet. He winced as Shintaro kicked him in the ankle. 

“Lord Masaru and I aren’t against reusing good ideas,” Shintaro said, “and we were intrigued by your account of you and Lord Sakai boarding ships in the night by yourselves.”

“If I weren’t desperate at the time, I wouldn’t have agreed,” Ryuzo said, shooting Jin an uncomfortable glance. Jin kept his expression carefully blank. Ryuzo had betrayed Jin not too long after that—a last-ditch effort to try and feed his men that hadn’t worked out as well as they’d hoped. 

“We’re desperate now,” Shintaro said, lowering his voice. “Quiet.” 

Jin welcomed the battle-calm that settled over his shoulders as they fetched up quietly by the flank of the looming Goryeo ship. As always, it moved doubts and even his lingering grief aside, resetting him into a disciplined stillness. 

Looming out of the dark, each Geobukseon ‘turtle’ ship had a snarling dragon figurehead mounted on a ship with a protective shell of a roof, spiked to prevent boarding from adjacent ships. Cannons bristled against its flanks, which were plated with iron, leaving small gaps at the top of each shielded segment that would be difficult to fit through. Ryuzo rowed them to the back, and Jin went first, climbing up on silent feet. The creaks and groans from the ship masked any sound Jin could’ve made as he pulled himself onto the deck. Walking cat-footed to a sentry with his back turned to Jin, Jin clamped a hand over the man’s mouth and cut his throat. 

Killing like this no longer sparked a sense of self-disgust. Jin wished it still did, as he slid the body of the man he’d killed into the water and darted into the armoured ship, not waiting for Shintaro and Ryuzo. He didn’t count as he killed. What was one more death, two, a hundred? His hands were always going to be bloody, and it was too late to explain any of it to his uncle. Jin knifed a man lounging beside a cannon before he could scream, and a tossed kunai caught a wide-eyed sentry with a lantern. It fell as he collapsed, but Jin lunged and caught it before it hit the deck. No sense in burning down the ship yet. He forged deeper into the belly of the ship, killing anyone he saw, climbing to an upper deck.

A muffled shout of alarm on another ship—someone had just been discovered. Jin scowled. That was the signal to retreat for their little exercise. He backed down to the lower deck, drawing his half-bow, killing a soldier who climbed down after him. Then another, as Jin retreated to the stern. Shintaro and Ryuzo were nowhere to be seen. Jin waited just outside the ship, stalling by shooting at targets on the others through the gaps above the shielded flanks. The other kashindan piled quietly into their boats as blasts from horns woke the warships. 

Had something happened to Ryuzo? Jin was about to go back in and check when Ryuzo emerged, cursing loudly and pushing a limping Shintaro before him. “Help him down to the boat,” Jin told them, facing down the warship’s maw as Ryuzo nodded. Jin tossed in a couple of black powder bombs as Ryuzo and Shintaro got to the edge. Men screamed as they recognised the device, scrambling to get free, their cries rising in agony as the explosion shook the deck. Soldiers backed off, perhaps afraid of another bomb. Jin climbed down swiftly once Ryuzo and Shintaro were clear, notching an arrow to his bow as Ryuzo rowed them free. He shot the first sentry who poked their head out of the ship, then the next. As Jin reached behind him for his next arrow, he nearly fell off the boat into the water as the ship blew apart in a fireball. 

Burning fragments showered down onto the other ships, lighting up folded sails. Another vessel blew up, if less spectacularly, sending it listing in the water, slowly sinking. “The black powder stores,” Jin guessed as they rowed. A third exploded belatedly as they closed in on the shore, its mainmast toppling and smashing into the ship beside it.

Shintaro grunted. “We met stiff resistance, even though we took them by surprise. Perhaps that’s why only three ships blew up.” He scowled. “Those turtle ships are more complicated than we thought.”

“Cheer up, Captain,” Ryuzo said, laughing as he nudged Shintaro’s uninjured leg. “That’s still three armoured warships down. Not bad work for twelve people on four boats. Most of the ships around these parts aren’t so armed to the teeth.” 

Shintaro nodded. “Masaru noticed that. Other than the turtle ships, many of the ships the Mongol army arrived in are new. Badly built, likely out of haste.” 

“How can he tell?” Ryuzo asked. “He’s been sick most of this time.” 

“He gathered some fishermen and smugglers and had them describe the ships to him. Something about the mainmasts and such confirms reports that the Shikken received out of China,” Shintaro said. 

“Doesn’t matter. We lack a navy, and we won’t get a chance like that again,” Jin said. The Goryeo ships would double their sentries. “Not here.” 

“Plenty of other ships to choose from,” Shintaro said. 

A war of attrition. It felt like a tiny victory to Jin as he looked at the sea of ships behind the three that burned. Still, the kashindan were in high spirits as they landed at Azamo Bay. Ryuzo handed off Shintaro to a healer and walked with Jin up to the main clan housing.

“They’ll get better with practice,” Jin predicted as they walked.

Ryuzo grunted. “Won’t take long before they run out of luck. No one’s quite like you.” 

Glad that the deepening night hid his blush, Jin said, “I’m fortunate to have the friends I’ve had.” 

“All of them?” Ryuzo said, a self-deprecating curl to his mouth. 

“I believe so.” Jin looked around, then reached over to squeeze Ryuzo’s palm. Ryuzo tensed, giving him a startled look, then pulled away as they walked into the clan compound. 

“Forgotten what I’ve done to you already?”

“Forgotten, no.” Jin wasn’t even too sure about whether he’d forgiven Ryuzo. 

It was easier not to think about it. Sometimes Jin would look at Ryuzo’s handsome profile and his chest would ache sweetly, convincing Jin that surely, he could now forgive Ryuzo almost anything. Let alone things that had happened in the past. Other times, Jin would catch a reflection of himself in the new Ghost armour and remember the friend who’d made the original, and feel bitter about Ryuzo’s betrayal all over again. Taka’s brutal death still haunted Jin’s dreams. 

Ryuzo grunted but said nothing as they located Masaru drinking tea by a karesansui garden. He looked questioningly at them as they approached, and put down his cup as Ryuzo updated him on the skirmish. “No casualties, three injured. One seriously—Takahashi got himself stabbed near the gut. Shintaro caught a stab in the leg, but he’d be fine. Morotoki twisted his ankle by accident during the escape.” 

Masaru nodded. He began to pour himself more tea and paused as Jin hastened to do it for him. Nodding his thanks, Masaru said, “Sounds like it went well.” 

“You can’t keep it up forever,” Ryuzo said.

“I don’t need to. People think that the invasion is a collective force when it’s a coalition,” Masaru said, raising the filled cup to his lips. “If we can inflict enough damage on one part of it or another, parts of it might withdraw.”

“Might,” Ryuzo said, sceptical. 

“That’s still a lot of troops, even if we just count the Goryeo forces. Could Clan Hōjō send further reinforcements from the mainland?” Jin asked. 

“Through the blockade? No. Despite efforts over the last seven years, our navy is still ill-equipped to face theirs at sea. Particularly since the Mongols are now equipped with Song naval technology _and_ Geobukseon battleships.” 

“Your cousin the Shikken will leave you to die?” Jin looked surprised. 

“I’m not dead yet,” Masaru said, and waved Jin and Ryuzo away. 

“I’ll go north with you,” Ryuzo said as they walked. “I’ve already mentioned it to the captain.” 

Jin smiled. “Oh! I hoped you would, but I didn’t want to ask it of you.” 

“Well, between one impossible scenario and the other, at least the one you’re returning to involves Adachi sake,” Ryuzo said, though he looked embarrassed at Jin’s pleasure. “Assuming that old woman doesn’t try to kill me.” 

“Her hands are too full with Ariake to bother with something like that,” Jin said, clasping Ryuzo’s shoulder. 

“If you ask me,” Ryuzo said, “things have been going _too_ well.”

#

Jin gasped as they closed in on the Adachi holdings. Thick, oily smoke rose past the trees, angling in a lazy coil toward the sky. Jin kicked his horse into a gallop, Ryuzo cursing as he tried to keep pace behind him. They bent over their saddles as they pelted up the steep access up to the clan holdings, passing bodies of Adachi and Goryeo soldiers alike lying dead where they’d fallen.

“No, _no_ ,” Jin kept gasping as they charged. Looked recent—the blood soaking the dirt hadn’t yet blackened, and flies were just starting to descend over the dead. In the hot weather, the bodies would spoil quickly. Ryuzo averted his eyes. Damn this war. He’d never liked Masako, even when he and Jin had been children, but how much grief could the Gods put one person through in her lifetime? Anger welled through him as they got to the gates, shattered from a battering ram. 

Bodies of the dying littered the central courtyard, but the holdings still rang with the clash of steel and whistling arrows. Jin snarled, turning his horse and bearing down on a group of Goryeo soldiers knifing survivors. He leapt from horseback, drawing his katana as he did so, death in motion. Ryuzo cursed, snatching up his bow as an archer on a nearby rooftop yelled an alarm. He shot him down and caught another atop a watchtower in their throat. By the time he finished off the last archers watching the main compound, Jin had killed the Goryeo soldiers on the ground and charged into the inner courtyard. 

Ryuzo dismounted, running after Jin. The surviving Adachi kashindan were fighting a losing battle, their backs up to the main clan housing. Masako stood at the front of their ranks, bloodied, her blade in her hands. A terrible sound came out of the wounded woman, a killing dirge of a howl as she faced down a man in elaborate, gold-tipped scale armour. General Kim Bang-gyeong. Behind her, a boy lay crumpled under a woman in a blue kimono with arrows in her back.

Jin hit the back flank of the Goryeo troops with the force of a warhammer. He slew three men faster than Ryuzo’s eye could follow and kept going, angling his katana through an archer’s leather and scale cuirass. Ryuzo drew his katana and tried to keep up, parrying an attack, gashing his blade through his opponent’s helm. His next blow glanced off the scale armour of a soldier, but he ducked a swipe and kicked out the soldier’s legs, ramming his sword through a bared throat. 

The soldiers before Jin began to hesitate. Ryuzo had seen this briefly on Komoda Beach, and it unsettled him to see it again here, even with Jin on his side. Once Jin gained some sort of killing momentum, he seemed to grow preternaturally unstoppable. Every man in his way would die. People who didn’t even know him would falter, screaming, some of them running away outright. General Kim turned and stared, shocked enough that he caught a glancing blow against his arm. 

Ryuzo fell back, drawing his bow, loosing shots at anyone trying to get at Jin’s unprotected back. Jin didn’t seem to care about getting flanked, setting the general as the focus of his furious charge. General Kim’s nerve visibly faltered, caught between Jin’s rage and Masako’s. He parried Masako’s next blow, shouting orders, retreating as heavily armoured soldiers closed ranks around him. Jin lit and threw hissing bombs that stuck to their armour, making them dance and curse before the wicked little weapons blew up, sending grown men crashing to their flanks and wailing in agony. 

Soldiers formed up, putting themselves between Jin and their general. There were so many—Ryuzo soon ran out of arrows. He rushed forward and parried a blow aimed at Masako’s flank and yelped as Masako swung at him, barely missing. The old woman’s eyes blazed with berserk fury. Ryuzo backed off as she turned and charged back at the general’s guard, hacking at them as she screamed. They harried the retreating soldiers out of the holdings until, somehow, the Goryeo troops’ morale broke. General Kim grabbed a horse, kicking it into a gallop out of the hold. Jin shot at him but missed as General Kim ducked, the soldiers behind him turning to flee. It felt like hackwork, cutting down panicked men not even trying to fight back. Ryuzo stopped at the gate, breathing hard, but Masako chased them through.

Jin blinked, shaking the battle-rage out of his eyes as Ryuzo clapped him hard on the arm. “Jin!” Ryuzo said. He pushed Jin after Masako. “Go after her. Calm her down. Be careful; she’s not herself.” Jin nodded, sprinting down the slope after Masako.

Ryuzo turned back to the courtyard, flicking the blood off his blade and sheathing it. He didn’t want to walk any further, but he forced himself to. In the inner courtyard, the surviving soldiers were pulling the woman in the blue kimono off the boy, their clothes soaked with blood. A _child_. This never got easier to see.

The closest retainer touched gentle fingers to the boy’s throat, then gasped and looked up in excitement. “Lord Takemi lives! His pulse is still strong.”

“What about her?” Ryuzo asked, hastening over to the woman.

“Mai-san’s still breathing as well, though her injuries are grievous,” said the soldier kneeling beside the woman, “but Captain Kawano…” he looked over at where a dead man lay fallen beside a partial ring of slain enemies. 

“Check for other survivors. Take these two to a healer.” Ryuzo turned, running out of the holdings. 

Masako and Jin hadn’t gone far. Jin was fighting defensively at the foot of the road up, trying to talk Masako down above their ringing blades as she snarled. Ryuzo jogged to a halt, panting. “Lord Takemi and Mai-san are still alive.” 

“You lie!” Masako glared at him, shaking on her feet. “The word of a traitor!” 

“Why would I lie about something like that?” Ryuzo demanded. “Head back up and see for yourself.”

“Lady Masako,” Jin said gently. He backed away, lowering his blade. “Why don’t you get those wounds looked at and change? Otherwise, Mai-san’s going to complain about all the blood on your clothes again.” 

Masako went still, blinking owlishly. She staggered back with a hoarse cry, her katana falling from her hands. Ryuzo caught her, pulling an arm over his shoulder. As she stiffened, Ryuzo said, “I know, I know. A traitor’s help and all that. Bear with it for now, all right?” 

She scowled but said nothing as Jin picked up her blade, returning it to her. As she flicked off the blood and sheathed it, Masako said in a more normal tone, “Jin, could you follow the Goryeo forces? See where they’re going.” 

Jin nodded, whistling for his horse. It passed them on the slope as Ryuzo helped Masako up to the holdings and into the inner courtyard, handing her off to a retainer. Then he set to assisting the Adachi retainers and servants with the grim task of sorting through the bodies of the dead and dying.

By the time Jin returned, they’d dragged the stripped bodies of the Goryeo soldiers in and outside the Adachi compound to the slope, dousing the heap in lamp oil and setting them alight. The Adachi dead were lined in rows in the central courtyard under straw mats. Far too many. “They’ve retreated toward Ariake Bay,” Jin said as he approached. “How’s Lady Masako?” 

“Resting. They’re treating her wounds. The retainers say General Kim attacked at night, spearheading all his forces in Ariake. Brute-forced their way through the traps and defensive formations and broke into the compound. It took hours to push Masako and her people back to the inner courtyard. Her son charged out to try and fight and got cut down, though his armour bore the most of it. Then Mai-san jumped over him to shield his body and caught arrows in the back. Shortly after that, we showed up.” 

Jin set his jaw. “I shouldn’t have let Lady Masako persuade me to go south. Yuna?” 

“On her way here, along with the rest of your ‘Ghost’ army. Adachi retainers lit the signal fires, but some of them would’ve been in the far corners of Ariake. Or might not have seen it,” Ryuzo said, even as a person in a replica of Jin’s Ghost armour charged through the central courtyard on horseback. Though Jin had described Masako’s tactics to Ryuzo and Masaru, it was still a shock to see someone dressed as the Ghost when Jin was right next to him. 

“Lady Masako?” demanded the new Ghost. It was Yuna under the mask. 

“Alive for now, but injured. Lord Takemi and Mai-san too. Captain Kawano didn’t survive,” Jin said. 

“Shit!” Yuna dismounted and darted past them into the main clan housing. 

Jin grabbed Ryuzo’s arm. “We’ll only be crowding the area if we head in too. Let’s see what else can be done here.” 

“Or we could ride out after General Kim and finish the job.” 

Jin glanced at Ryuzo, surprised. “You’re the one who usually complains about my reckless plans.”

“General Kim and his forces are in disarray right now. Best time for a counterattack,” Ryuzo said. 

“With just two people?” Jin asked, even as another person in Ghost armour rode in, looking just as anxious. 

Ryuzo grinned wolfishly. “I think we can manage more soon. Give me a set of Ghost armour, if you’ve got one spare. I have a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://www.antiquealive.com/Blogs/Geobukseon_Turtle_Ship.html  
> https://gramho.com/media/2295511745974571556


	9. Chapter 9

Like many of Ryuzo’s plans cooked up from the fly since they’d been children, this one felt half-assed. Jin swallowed his doubts as the ‘Ghosts’ dismounted at the cliff overlooking the large encampment at Ariake bay. It hurt to look at the group and know that Captain Kawano was dead and Masako was seriously injured, but the men and women under his command were the best of the Adachi retainers remaining. It’d just been bad luck that most of them had been away on missions in Ariake during the attack. Some at Jin’s behest. He tried not to feel guilty about that.

Ryuzo walked over to the edge, crouching down behind a tree. If not for the fact that Jin could recognise Ryuzo’s gait anywhere, Ryuzo would’ve been near-indistinguishable from the other Ghosts. “Told you so,” Ryuzo said, nodding at the chaos in the beach encampment. “They’re disorganised.” 

“We could wait for nightfall,” Yuna said.

“Long time to nightfall, and they might retreat aboard those blasted turtle ships before then,” Ryuzo disagreed, though he glanced at Jin. “Your call.” 

“So you can blame me if everything goes awry?” Jin said, though he smiled behind his mask and edged over for a look. Disorganised or not, the encampment looked well-fortified, and the moored ships were within cannon range of the shore. Besides, the soldiers looked like they were busy setting up triage more than planning a second wave of attacks. “We wait until nightfall,” Jin decided. “Make your preparations. I’ll roster out scouting.” 

Shared supplies made for a cold lunch at the vantage point. “They’ve retracted their patrols,” Ryuzo said as he found Jin after his turn at scouting. “Sent out a messenger, though.” Jin straightened in dismay, but Ryuzo settled down beside him and leant against the tree. “Don’t worry. I took care of it.” 

“Good.” Jin glanced behind them. The other Ghosts were eating further away, talking to each other or preparing to leave and scout. Yuna wasn’t back yet. Jin shifted closer to Ryuzo, hoping it didn’t look too strange to everyone else, and tried not to blush as Ryuzo hooked his arm around Jin’s waist, hidden by the tree and the bushes. “Ryuzo!” Jin hissed. 

“What?” Ryuzo asked, squeezing Jin’s hip with an innocent look. 

“You’re terrible,” Jin said, though he dropped his palm, briefly stroking the back of Ryuzo’s hand. 

“Something on your mind?”

“Lady Masako’s family,” Jin admitted. “When I saw Takemi and Mai, I thought…” He trailed off.

“Same,” Ryuzo said. “Can’t do anything for them now. Except maybe try and make this area a little safer.” 

Jin smiled warmly at Ryuzo. That sweet ache in his chest was back, with Ryuzo this close, his warmth palpable. “You care about them.”

“Not really. If they die though, that’s it for Ariake,” Ryuzo said, though he coughed and looked away. “Maa, I just think it isn’t fair. That old woman’s already lost more than anyone should lose.” 

“She has,” Jin said. He wished he could lean into Ryuzo, prop his cheek on Ryuzo’s shoulder. Listen to his breathing up close. “This war, and the earlier one… everyone’s lost someone.” 

Ryuzo sobered. “Shit, I forgot. How are you holding up?” 

“If I keep moving forward, I’ll be fine,” Jin said, Sitting alone with his thoughts was when grief found a way in to paralyse him all over again. “What about you?” 

“Me?” Ryuzo said, puzzled. 

“You lost your family too. Back during the first invasion. All the Straw Hats, I—”

“Oh.” Ryuzo patted Jin’s hip. “Told you that was my fault.”

“Doesn’t that make things worse?” 

“It does,” Ryuzo conceded, “but I’ve had seven years to deal with it.” He looked tired as he said it, though. “Maybe they haven’t forgiven me either for my shit choices. Could be when I do eventually get to Yomi-no-kuni, all I’ll face is a group of angry ghosts who used to call me brother.” He laughed mirthlessly. 

“You won’t be the only one facing angry ghosts,” Jin said, growing sober. “Takemi tried to protect his mothers. I was older than him when bandits attacked my father, and all I did was hide.” 

Ryuzo bumped his shoulder with a snort. “You’re _still_ hung up about that?” 

“How can’t I be?” If his father had still been alive—

“Gods, Jin. You were a boy. You had no business trying to defend anyone. Neither did that Adachi kid. Didn’t you see what happened to him? That would’ve happened to you too.” 

“We don’t know that.” 

“Regrets are just a form of poison that you choose to drink to hurt yourself,” Ryuzo said, stroking Jin’s back. “I should know. I have a lot of them myself.” 

“I’d call regrets a reminder,” Jin said, “and a warning to choose differently should a similar situation arise again.” 

“Differently, hm?” Ryuzo shifted closer, pressing his thigh against Jin’s and folding his arms behind his head, closing his eyes. “I’m going to take a nap. Wake me when it’s time.”

#

Nightfall marked its advent by lanterns lighting up across the encampment. By then, Jin had gone over the sketchy plan Ryuzo had drawn up several times, strengthening it where he could from what he learned from the scouts. General Kim was the main target, one that Jin would aim for. Everyone else just had to seed as much chaos as they could and prioritise killing anyone who looked important. Ryuzo had rolled his eyes when Jin had said that, even as Yuna laughed.

As Jin squeezed through a gap in the perimeter fence, he ducked behind a tent and tried to reorient himself. Yuna had identified one of the elaborate tents near the large command tent as the one most likely to be General Kim’s. Jin climbed up onto the tent he was next to, hopping onto a stack of boxes and leaping behind a set of archery racks, rolling to break his fall. He fetched up behind a sentry, who managed a gasp before Jin grabbed him and stabbed him in the throat with his tanto. Pulling the body behind the archery racks, Jin covered it as best he could with a set of folded hides and kept moving. 

The encampment was much larger than the Mongol camps Jin used to navigate seven years ago on his own. If he hadn’t spent the day memorising the layout from above, Jin would’ve likely gotten lost. He used watchtowers and the distant sea to orient himself, killing only where necessary. Mostly sentries. Jin didn’t want to risk getting into a fight before he got to his goal. He could only hope that the other Ghosts didn’t get caught until then. 

The patrols grew tighter as Jin closed in on the command tent. As Jin prepared to sprint toward the General’s tent and cut his way under it, he tensed as General Kim walked out of it, dressed in his gold-tipped scale armour. Jin hastily ducked out of sight behind a wall of supply chests and peeked through a gap. General Kim paused to discuss something with a patrol, favouring an arm as he gestured. Jin couldn’t understand the language, but it didn’t sound like the Goryeo soldiers were alarmed about anything. Once General Kim was satisfied with whatever he’d learned, he waved the patrol on and ducked into the command tent. 

Jin took in a slow breath. Something didn’t feel right. Still, it was too late to turn back. He waited for a gap in the patrols and padded between deep shadows cast by chests and supplies until he got to the back of the command tent. He cut a gash up the back and squeezed through. 

Rich furnishings and furs adorned the tent, scrolls packed over the heavy desk to one side. General Kim spoke animatedly to someone in dark grey robes and pants, a cowl pulled over their head. The person paused in mid-gesture and glanced sharply over as Jin straightened up, the light from a lamp cutting away the shadows over their face. General Liang Guiying. 

Jin took a furious step forward even as General Kim turned. With a dry laugh, the General said in accented Japanese, “Your prediction came true.” 

“Of course,” General Liang said. 

“It’s a pity that you were born a woman. If you'd been a man, you'd have been placed in command of the Chinese forces instead of that coward,” General Kim said. 

“I wouldn’t call General Fan cowardly but pragmatic,” General Liang said with a thin smile, “and women are no less than men. I’d thought you’d learned that only recently. General Kim.”

Kim Bang-gyeong glared at Guiying, even as he stepped toward Jin, drawing the blade at his hip. “I’ve heard stories of Lord Sakai Jin, the Ghost of Tsushima. An undefeated swordsman, the Bane of Khans. I’ve longed to try my sword against yours. Once General Liang predicted that you would come for my head tonight, I told my men not to intervene if they heard fighting within this tent.” 

Jin stepped forward, resting his hand over his borrowed blade as he faced General Kim down. He didn’t bother to speak, even as Guiying backed away to the desk and sat behind it, watching them avidly as they began to circle each other. General Kim charged forward, light on his feet despite his scale armour. Jin drew and parried at the last moment, breaking General Kim’s guard and striking him across the chest. General Kim’s scale armour held, though he staggered back and aimed a vicious thrust at Jin’s face. Jin spun away just in time, reversing his blade and stabbing it through a seam in General Kim’s armour, into his flank. 

General Kim cursed, backing off and examining the damage. He laughed, the joyous, maddening laugh of a predator. “You _are_ very good.” 

Jin didn’t reply. General Kim swept towards him, his guard changing fluidly to a low position that spun from vicious jabs that Jin barely parried in time to a heavy two-handed overhead strike. He jerked away, too far for a counter—General Kim stepped out of range, grinning. The General charged, spinning, his blade dancing around him in an unpredictable cradle of steel. Jin hissed as he caught a strike on his arm, parrying what he could, then darting behind General Kim and aiming a jab at his back. Somehow General Kim parried, hard enough to break Jin’s guard, kicking him in the stomach. Jin staggered back, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to focus. His old wounds burned as he raised his blade in a two-handed grip. 

They clashed again and again, coming away bloody. Jin’s anger eased away from him, crystallising into a calm focus. As it did, he got faster. Better. This was the way he had learned how to fight, without emotion, without resentment. He began to drive General Kim back as he learned the pattern of General Kim’s attacks, knowing when to parry, when to counter. Rage settled over General Kim’s face, along with desperation as he began to slow down, hampered by his wounds. Until with a snarl, he lunged over to a strange, long metal tube leaning against a chest and picked it up, aiming it at Jin—and fell back, gurgling and clutching at a thrown dagger buried in his face. General Kim collapsed, twitching, the tube rolling from nerveless fingers and fetching up at General Liang’s feet. 

She picked it up, inspecting it. “Crude version of our hand cannons,” Guiying said. “It’d still have killed you at this range, though. You should be more careful.” 

Jin stared at her. “Why did you save me?” 

“Did I?” Guiying said with a thin smile. “I was never here.” She dropped the ‘hand cannon’ and walked over to Kim Bang-gyeong’s body, yanking out the dagger and wiping it on the General’s sleeve. She sheathed it back up her robes and began to walk to the slit Jin had made in the back of the tent. 

Jin grabbed her arm. “What are you playing at?” 

Guiying shook herself free of his grip. “The carp swims upstream through the falls of the Yellow River, facing a thousand trials, hoping to cross the Dragon Gate,” she said, looking Jin slowly over. “If it succeeds, it transforms into a dragon and takes flight, the emperor of all it sees.” 

“Koi no taki-nobori,” Jin said, echoing the similar local sentiment.

“General Fan is a cautious man. If he suffers too many losses, he’ll return to China. As will General Jun-gi, the remaining Goryeo commander. General Arakhan is another matter. You have come a little way up the river, but there’s more of it to face,” Guiying said. “I’m curious how far you’d go.” 

“You’re one of the obstacles in my path,” Jin said, glaring at her. “My uncle hoped that the Song Chinese wouldn’t fight so hard if he let you live.” 

“A naive sentiment at the time,” Guiying said, unmoved. “Still, a carp is only worth watching, and a ghost is not a creature that anyone should willingly follow. A dragon, however? For a dragon, we might be willing to fight our fate.” She clasped her hands before her and bowed. “Until next time,” Guiying said, and ducked out of the tent. 

Jin took a slow breath; his hand clenched tight on the hilt of his katana. He should have cut her down in his uncle’s memory. Too late now. Jin turned to the dead General, shaking off guilt and regret, bending to hack off the head. Now was the time for chaos.

#

“Why the long face?” Ryuzo asked when he located Jin hiding up one of the Adachi watchtowers. With so many Adachi soldiers dead and Masako still in recovery, there wasn’t much of a post-battle celebration. Anyone who could still afford any energy was busy preparing the dead for burial.

“I’m just thinking,” Jin said as Ryuzo flopped down beside him and opened a cask of Adachi sake, passing Jin a cup. “Did you ask Lady Masako for permission before you took that?” 

“No,” Ryuzo said, and smirked at Jin’s frown. “I’ll just tell her it was for you if she asks. After all, the great Lord Sakai just chased an army into the sea on her behalf.” 

Jin shook his head, though he allowed Ryuzo to pour him a cup. “I can’t always tell whether you’re making fun of me or not.”

“I wasn’t.” Seeing Jin stride out of the command tent with General Kim’s bloody head in his grip—hell. It’d been frightening even for Ryuzo, and he was on Jin’s side. The sudden death of their general had been too much for the Goryeo soldiers who’d been under General Kim’s command—they’d rushed for the rowboats, screaming and trampling each other in their fear. Some of them had jumped into the sea rather than stay ashore. 

“We were lucky,” Jin said. 

“Lucky?” Ryuzo pretended to take offence. “I’d call it hard work paying off in spades. The rest of us killed our share.” 

“It might not work again. Or the Goryeo forces might regroup and return. There are other generals.” 

“Is that why you’ve hidden up here to sulk?” 

“I’m not sulking. Just thinking.” Jin stretched out his legs, leaning his head back against the wall of the watchtower as he drank. “General Kim wasn’t the only person in that command tent. General Liang was there too.” 

Ryuzo blinked. “You killed her?” 

“No, I… I don’t know why I let her go.” 

“It’s hard for any decent person to raise their hand against a woman—”

“That wasn’t it.” Jin described his brief encounter with General Liang in terse terms. “Maybe it was a mistake letting her go,” Jin said once he was done. 

“Huh.” Ryuzo refilled their cups. “The Song Chinese might defect?” 

“Or she might just be trying to make me think that they will. They still killed my uncle. Along with almost everyone on Komoda Beach.” 

“Beautiful piece of organised strategy,” Ryuzo said, recalling the armoured worm. At Jin’s glance, Ryuzo said, “What? I was there too. I’m allowed to admire it. Even if it kicked our ass. Wonder if she thought of it.” 

“I don’t trust her,” Jin said, “but if there’s a chance that some of the Song Chinese can switch sides, or turn neutral, that’s the catalyst we’d need to turn the tide against General Arakhan.” 

“Didn’t you say once that she told us our lives had no value to theirs and they all had family back home?” Ryuzo asked. At Jin’s nod, Ryuzo said, “I doubt they’d change sides so easily, knowing what will happen to their families in China.” 

Jin nodded, though he still looked distracted. “I wish I could talk to my uncle about this.” He stifled a soft sound. 

“Your uncle? He’d have told her to take her offer and eat it,” Ryuzo said with a snort. “Dishonour on your family, for even considering an alliance with an army of foreign traitors. Dishonour on your horse!” 

A hiccup of laughter escaped Jin, shuddering into a belly-aching laugh, sake spilling over the floor. “Ryuzo!” Jin kept trying to gasp between laughs. Ryuzo snickered, pecking Jin’s cheek, then humming as Jin turned to kiss him, scrambling onto his lap. Ryuzo hastily confiscated Jin’s cup, setting it aside as he rubbed his palms over Jin’s cheeks, deepening the kiss. 

“How do you do that so easily?” Jin whispered as they kissed. “Disarm me with just a word, a look.” 

“I’ve had practice,” Ryuzo said, chasing the taste of sake in Jin’s mouth. 

Jin’s warm hands rubbed down Ryuzo’s back as he pressed forward with a soft moan. A quick learner, Jin had fast become far less clumsy at this, worrying at Ryuzo’s lips, licking in to meet his tongue. “Seven years ago I nearly killed you,” Jin murmured.

“I’d say it was mutual,” Ryuzo said, though that wasn’t entirely true. He’d never tried to kill Jin. Not directly.

“I’m glad I didn’t. I can’t lose you. I don’t know what it would have done to me.” 

“You?” Ryuzo tickled his fingertips over Jin’s jaw. “I know you. You’d have moved on.”

Jin shivered. “The thought of that scares me even more. That I might have cut you down and not even shed a tear. That maybe all I might have done to remember you would be to think of you now and then or preserve a keepsake. That I’d have set years of friendship aside so easily. Could I have been so ruthless?” 

“Are you asking me for an honest opinion?” Ryuzo asked, looking steadily up at Jin. Jin could only meet his gaze for a moment before he dropped his eyes. They both knew what Jin would have done, had that come to pass. What was the point of discussing it, though? Instead, Ryuzo tipped Jin’s chin toward him, taking another lingering kiss, then another, until Jin’s strange and ugly mood faded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.japantimes.co.jp/life/2014/04/12/environment/swimming-upstream-to-become-a-dragon/


	10. Chapter 10

Jin smiled as he walked up to Takemi on the practice grounds; the boy gritting his teeth as he practised a kata. Pain from his wounds made his grip on his bokken shaky, and Takemi grunted as he sliced at the air. “Shouldn’t you be resting?” Jin asked as he walked up beside Takemi.

“ _You_ didn’t rest for long after your injuries,” Takemi retorted, glaring at the wall. 

“Hai, hai,” Jin said, watching the boy with a critical eye as Takemi went through another kata. “Don’t repeat my bad habits, or Lady Masako will scold me.” 

“She isn’t resting much either,” Takemi muttered. He stopped, breathing hard. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“I’ve heard the stories. That you can suffer grievous wounds and get up again, over and over. How do you manage it?” 

“I wish I were that invincible,” Jin said, chuckling. “If I were, Yuna wouldn’t have had to keep rescuing me. Do you know how embarrassing that is, now that it’s the third time she’s had to save me? She’ll never let me hear the end of it.” 

“That’s not what I mean.” 

Jin looked soberly at the boy. “When I was ten, bandits attacked my clan. Killed several retainers. My father was dying in front of me when he asked me to save him.” 

“You must have attacked them.” 

“No,” Jin said with a bitter laugh. “I hid.” He clapped the surprised child on his back. “Think of it that way. You’re already braver than I was. Once you’re older, wiser, and stronger, you’d be a better warrior than I am now too.”

Takemi nibbled on his lower lip, lowering his bokken and thinking this over. “We can’t always be brave,” he said comfortingly. 

“You’re already a kinder person than I’ve ever been,” Jin said, patting Takemi’s head. “Rest and recover, won’t you? For your mothers’ sakes. Go and look after them. It’ll help, and we need Lady Masako fighting fit as soon as possible.” 

“She will be,” Takemi said, though he sheathed the bokken at his obi. “You’re right. I should be checking on them more often. It’s frustrating, though. I wish I were older.” 

“It’s the nature of the young to wish they were older and for the old to wish they were young,” Jin said, repeating something his uncle had often said to him. Only when the words came out of his mouth did his heart ache, his eyes stinging. 

Thankfully, Takemi didn’t notice, nodding solemnly. “I’ll think about that,” he said, even as Yuna spotted them across the practice grounds and strode over. 

“There you are. Lady Masako’s awake and extremely grumpy now that she’s had breakfast,” Yuna said with a cheeky grin. “Old people, hm? She wants to talk to you, Jin. By the way, she’s furious that we went and killed General Kim without her. I recommend hiding behind Lord Takemi.” 

“Surely she’ll understand,” Lord Takemi said, surprised. “A counterattack was tactically sound.” 

“Lord Takemi is young and very wise, but he doesn’t seem to understand his mother,” Yuna said, pinching Takemi’s cheek. He jerked back, glaring at Yuna. “Go on then. Shield your loyal retainers, O Lord of Ariake.” 

“You only make fun of me because I’m a child,” Takemi huffed, though he obligingly began to walk toward the main clan housing. 

“Haven’t you heard me with Jin over here? I make fun of everyone,” Yuna said with a cheerful smirk. “Humour is the only thing that makes our short and miserable lives bearable.” 

Takemi gasped. “How can you say that?”

Jin relaxed as he followed the bickering pair to the main clan housing. “Where’s Ryuzo, anyway?” Yuna asked once they got to the inner compound. “I thought the two of you were now joined at the hip.” 

“Out scouting,” Jin said, somehow managing not to blush. 

“Forgive me for saying this, Lord Sakai,” Takemi said very seriously, “but haha-ue once mentioned that this Ryuzo betrayed you to the Mongols during the first campaign.” 

“He did,” Jin said, and glanced at Yuna, whose smile faded. “Yuna’s brother, a great friend of mine, died because of it.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Yuna said, pursing her lips. 

“Because I got captured—” Jin began.

Yuna threw up her hands. “ _Jin_. Do you want to do this? Fine. Taka died because he tried to be like you. Because you encouraged it, even though it takes years to learn how to use a sword or a bow or battle awareness. He died because he admired you and tried to emulate you, even though no one can be like you but you. Even if he hadn’t died trying to rescue you, he would have died sooner or later. That’s why I was so desperate to get to the mainland.” Yuna stared Jin fiercely in the eyes. “Yet do I blame you? No. Because Taka was old enough to make his own choices. It hurts me every morning to wake up and know that he isn’t here, but I choose to honour his memory, not let it haunt me.” 

“I… I see,” Jin said. 

“You forgive Ryuzo for being a traitor?” Takemi asked, trying to understand. 

“I don’t care enough about him to hate him for something like that,” Yuna said with a sharp laugh. “But I know what it’s like to be hungry. Truly hungry, in a way that seeps into your bones until it feels like a part of you, when you’d eat grass or spoiled food just to tide you a little longer, driving you to do things that you never thought you’d be capable of. When you’d sell your children for rice. I’ve been poor most of my life and hungry for a lot of it. I’ve seen people do worse things than what Ryuzo did out of hunger. As I have.” 

“Yuna…” Jin trailed off. “You were a child.” 

“Child or not,” Yuna said, in a colder voice that Jin had ever heard from her, “I don’t have the patience to listen to daimyō lords talk to me about how to forgive a peasant, when they’ve never been hungry a day in their lives.” 

Takemi flinched. Jin winced and said, “I… Sorry.” 

“But Lord Sakai hasn’t been a—” Takemi cut himself off as Jin gave him a warning glance, hanging his head. 

They walked in silence to the clan housing, and while taking off their sandals, Jin said, “Yuna, I didn’t mean to offend you. Forgive me.”

“Already forgiven. Besides, usually you samurai offend me by accident and don’t even realise it. Or don’t care. At least you _are_ sorry though,” Yuna said.

“I’m sorry as well,” Takemi piped up anxiously. 

“You? I know. You’re a good boy,” Yuna said, smiling as she patted Takemi on the shoulder. “Largely because you have such great parents. Now come on, before your haha-ue starts breathing fire and burns this place down." 

Takemi looked a little alarmed, hurrying through the main clan housing to the upper floor. They could hear Masako snarling something well before they got close, and passed a harried-looking retainer hurrying out who gave them a look of sheer relief. Takemi peeked through the open door of Masako’s room. “Haha-ue? May we have a word?” 

“Takemi.” Masako’s voice warmed several degrees. “Come, come. Are you feeling better?” 

“Very much so. I’m sorry if I worried you. Would you like to speak to Yuna-san and Lord Sakai too?”

“They’re hiding behind you, are they?” Masako sounded amused. “Well, come in then.” 

“Confiscate her weapons,” Yuna told Takemi as she made a show of tiptoeing into the room. Masako let out a sharp laugh as Jin followed more sedately. He relaxed. This was Masako’s study, not her bedchamber. The latter would’ve been too awkward for Jin. 

“Why, expecting another room?” Masako told him, amused. She waved him to a cushion before her desk. Masako looked pale, bandages peeking out past the sleeves of her blue kimono.

“No. How is Mai-san?” Jin asked gently.

“Still asleep, but the healers think she’d recover, given enough time.” Masako beckoned Takemi over as Takemi began to sit beside Jin, and pulled the boy down beside her. Takemi stiffened as Masako hugged him close. He looked boyishly relieved once the semi-public show of maternal affection was over and he was allowed to squirm free. Jin hid a wistful smile. He didn’t remember his mother.

“Care to explain why you attacked General Kim without me?” Masako asked Jin. 

“It felt expedient at the time. Also, forgive my impudence,” Jin said, “but I have a related matter to discuss. I talked to General Liang in the Goryeo camp.” He described his meeting with the Song General, down to the point where she’d killed General Kim. 

Masako frowned. “I’m not inclined to trust any of them.” 

“I wouldn’t either,” Jin said. 

“Still, assuming it isn’t a trap, it makes sense that she’ll be trying to keep her options open. The Mongols were her enemies not that long ago, and they likely left her forces on Komoda Beach to face the stiffest resistance because they didn’t care as much about Song Chinese casualties. If we somehow manage to turn the tide of war, I doubt they’re willing to die for their conquerors,” Masako said. 

“Should we try and get in further contact with this General?” Takemi asked. 

“I won’t go to her as a supplicant,” Jin said. He wouldn’t be able to trust her at all if he did. 

As Jin began to describe how the rest of the battle had gone, she raised her palm to stop him. “According to my scouts, the Goryeo forces in Ariake are abandoning their encampment. Some of their ships in the bay have set sail.”

“They’re heading north or south?” Jin asked, dismayed. If the ships were going south to reinforce Azamo, he’d have to warn Masaru. 

“South,” Masako said, looking grim.

“That’s not good. I’ll ride for Azamo immediately.” Jin started to rise to his feet. 

“It didn’t look like they were regrouping, or they would’ve packed up in an orderly way and sailed off as a fleet. Still, I’ll send Yuna south to warn Lord Masaru, just in case,” Masako said, glancing at Yuna. She nodded, getting to her feet and leaving the room. Once she was out of the room, Masako said stiffly, “Jin, I don’t want to ask this of you. But if you could stay until I’ve at least reorganised my forces, I would be grateful.” 

“Of course,” Jin said, settling back on the cushion. “You’ve done so much for me—you only had to ask. It should have occurred to me myself.” 

“It’d be one less thing for me to worry about, if I knew Ariake was in good hands,” Masako said, “though I’d also appreciate it if you kept Takemi and me abreast of any developments.” 

“Naturally,” Jin said, inclining his head. “I’ll keep most of the others close, but I’d still like to know whether the Goryeo forces in the area are abandoning Ariake. If so, we could accept refugees from Hiyoshi and Komatsu.” They discussed updates about Ariake until Masako grew tired. Jin left Takemi to take care of his mother, excusing himself politely. 

Ryuzo was waiting for him outside the main clan housing. “Yuna told me about the ships,” he said as they walked out to the main compound.

“You can follow her south if you wish,” Jin said, though he hoped not. 

“Lord Masaru’s been planning for Goryeo reinforcements to come south for a while. Won’t matter much whether I’m there or not. What are you planning to do?” Ryuzo asked. 

“Lady Masako asked me to help out until she recovers.” 

“How is she?” 

“Indomitable,” Jin said, because that was what Masako had always been in his opinion. Even when he’d been a child, growing up listening to the musicians sing her tales. They’d been popular songs in Castle Shimura, though Jin’s uncle tended to huff and call them nonsense. Masako had always been a legend in Tsushima. 

“She probably would’ve killed General Kim herself even if we hadn’t interrupted her,” Ryuzo said. 

“I think so. It’s why Lady Masako grew angry when she woke up and realised we’d robbed her of her vengeance.” 

“Roasted you, did she? You look unscathed.”

“I hid behind her son,” Jin said, smiling as Ryuzo laughed.

#

Worrisome as it was to have to wait and see whether the Goryeo forces were abandoning Ariake, preparing for a counterattack, or regrouping to the south, helping to manage the Adachi holdings felt a little like returning to a life Jin used to have.

While Jin had lived much of his childhood and most of his adult life in Castle Shimura, he’d managed his family’s ancestral lands as well. First with help and guidance from his uncle, but it hadn’t been long before Lord Shimura had deemed Jin ready to do it by himself. It helped that Omi Village and its surrounding lands were fertile and peaceful, with only the occasional bandit problem to handle. Kubara prefecture was split between Clan Sakai and a couple of other friendly samurai clans anyway, who’d been willing to shoulder the problem until Jin had grown older. 

Managing an entire prefecture the way Masako did now was another story, but Lord Shimura had groomed Jin to take over management of Tsushima itself someday. Dealing with Ariake’s day-to-day issues on top of everything else wasn’t as much of a challenge as that would have been, even in times of peace. Having to consult with Masako and Takemi wasn’t different from before. Jin had always sought advice from his uncle, even when he’d made up his mind on what to do. 

Jin missed him.

Having Ryuzo around helped. Ryuzo took to what he liked to call ‘fake Ghost missions’ with gleeful aplomb. “I once wished that I were you,” Ryuzo said after they shared dinner, “though I don’t think this was what I hoped for.” 

“You did?” 

“Sure. Many of the other children envied you. Why wouldn’t they? Even if you never became your uncle’s heir, you were already a daimyō lord.” Ryuzo poured out sake for them both as they sat within the guest housing, overlooking a view of Ariake. “The rest of us were either peasants or the sons of salaried samurai. Wouldn’t ever amount to much.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Jin said. He sat seiza, while Ryuzo had a leg up and the other tucked loosely over the tatami, an arm slung over his knee. “You’ve been doing well.” 

“Have I?” Ryuzo said. He drained his sake cup. Setting it down, he got to his feet. “I’m going to turn in for the night. Tired.” 

“It’s still early,” Jin said, surprised. Usually, Ryuzo would’ve at least tried to drink half of the cask. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Ryuzo said, padding off toward the inner room that he’d chosen to sleep in. Jin set down the cup and followed, making Ryuzo turn. “Which means I’m going to sleep,” Ryuzo said. 

“Are you?” Jin drew closer. When Ryuzo only stared at him, Jin pulled Ryuzo into his arms and looked into his eyes. Ryuzo grew tense, then exhaled and stroked his palms over the small of Jin’s back. 

“Hardly subtle,” Ryuzo said. 

“We’re alone.” Jin rested his cheek on Ryuzo’s shoulder. “What are you thinking so hard about?” 

“Nothing much. Useless things.” 

“Tell me. If it’s so useless.” 

Ryuzo didn’t answer, his hands slowing and going still. When Jin didn’t budge, Ryuzo said, “Assuming we survive all this and assuming your amnesty isn’t a trap, what would you do next?”

“Return to Omi village, I suppose. I haven’t thought about it.” 

“Figured,” Ryuzo said. 

“There’d be a place there for you. I-if you want.” 

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean, maybe? Didn’t you get amnesty as well?”

“I’ve just… Never mind.”

“No, tell me.” 

Ryuzo exhaled. “I have good memories of this island. Also a lot of bad ones.” 

“From what you did during the first invasion?” Jin asked. He’d heard about Castle Shimura. 

“I lost my entire family here, Jin. Twice. Once to illness, when I was growing up. Then to my choices.”

“By my hand,” Jin said softly. He should have figured that out.

“Mm.” 

“So you’d leave? After this?” 

“Assuming we survive…” Ryuzo paused. “I don’t know. Maybe.” 

Jin’s hands curled in the back of Ryuzo’s kimono. He wanted to ask Ryuzo to stay, but the words withered unsaid. Talking about life after the war felt surreal, like trying to pinpoint a daydream. He leaned up to kiss Ryuzo instead, brushing an awkward kiss over Ryuzo’s mouth, deepening it when Ryuzo pressed into it. 

“Is this how you’re going to ask me to stay?” Ryuzo asked, though he sounded reflective rather than amused. 

“Would it work?” Jin asked. Ryuzo chuckled, allowing Jin to draw him toward the bedchamber. As they undid their obi, Jin said shyly, “Now can I practice?” 

Ryuzo hissed. They sat on the futon, Ryuzo pulling Jin into his lap as he nuzzled his throat. “Sure, but watch your teeth,” Ryuzo said as Jin knelt between his thighs, stroking his hair as Jin kissed his way down, trying to imitate what Ryuzo had done with him. 

“Don’t push yourself,” Ryuzo breathed as he spread his thighs, squirming as Jin untangled his fundoshi to leave him bare. 

The musky scent was strange but not unpleasant. Ryuzo’s stiffening cock was a handful, thicker than Jin’s and flushed dark, and Ryuzo hissed again as Jin leant in for a tentative lick. Soft gasps and sighs broke the pregnant air as Jin licked up Ryuzo’s length, curling his tongue curiously over the swollen cap, the salty tip. Ryuzo grabbed one of Jin’s hands, closing it over his cock near the base and urging him to pull. He winced and cursed as Jin used too much strength, but Jin managed a good rhythm after a few attempts. 

“Teeth,” Ryuzo yelped as Jin tried to fit the cap into his mouth. It took Jin a moment to realise how to tuck his lips over his teeth and suck Ryuzo in. The stretch felt strange, as did the weight on his tongue, but it was worth trying as Ryuzo shivered and moaned his name, hands clenching over Jin’s kimono. Jin tried to take in more and gagged, tears pricking at his eyes. A thumb stroked his cheek as Jin choked again. 

“Slowly,” Ryuzo said, his voice strained. “Use your hand—aah. Yes. That’s better.” Ryuzo laughed shakily. “You look so damned good like this, Jin. Trying so hard to please me.” Jin moaned and Ryuzo jerked against him, making him swallow hard around the flesh in his mouth. “Shit! That’s good.” Ryuzo bucked, his cock pushing briefly against the back of Jin’s mouth. Jin pulled off, coughing, eyes watering. “Sorry,” Ryuzo gasped. 

“No, I…” Jin tried to lean back down, but Ryuzo hauled him up for a rough kiss, stripping Jin of his fundoshi and hauling them together. Jin gasped as their cocks rubbed against each other, pleasure shivering through his frame. He bucked against Ryuzo, stifling his moans against Ryuzo’s throat as Ryuzo grabbed his hips and urged him into a slow rhythm. 

“Squeeze down,” Ryuzo grunted and groaned as Jin obligingly closed his hands over them both and tightened his grip, giving them something to thrust into. His breaths broke into shallow wounded whines, shivering as Ryuzo bared his shoulders and peppered them with kisses. With a keening moan, Jin’s hips stuttered as he found his release, and gasped as Ryuzo merely laughed and swiped a palm through the mess to stroke himself off in sharp jerks. As Ryuzo, in turn, shook against Jin, he bit down hard over Jin’s shoulder, leaving a bright mark.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is getting out of hand. I usually close my longfics at like 13-16 chapters. Doubt it’d be possible for this one. On the other hand, I’m also now writing a lot more than even my usual, so I think I can update more. Probably because it’s the first WIP of the year for me, which isn’t normal (this year has been a hard year for me, creatively). Nice to get back to speed though.

Ryuzo gawked as Lord Masaru strolled through the gates of the Golden Temple with Shintaro at his heels, hurrying over from the large tree he’d been walking under with Jin. “What are you doing here in person?” Ryuzo said, astonished. “I thought you'd just send Captain Shintaro and whoever you could spare. Are you trying to get yourself killed?” 

Masaru glanced at Shintaro with a look of amusement. “Why do I have so many ill-trained dogs under my command? Dogs who dare to bark at their master so rudely.” 

“You like ill-trained dogs,” Shintaro said, though he swept the Golden Temple with an uncomfortable eye. “That’s why you keep so many.” 

“This suits you somehow,” Masaru said, looking Ryuzo’s ghost armour over. “Interesting.” 

Jin caught up with Ryuzo. “Lord Masaru, Captain Shintaro. Welcome. Lady Masako awaits.” 

“How is she?” Masaru asked as they walked past the crowded paths, the fortified temple thick with refugees, the air smoky from cookfires and the stench of too many people packed together in one space for too long. Masaru didn’t look like it bothered him. 

“Well enough, she says,” Jin said with a wry smile. “The last person who dared to suggest that she should rest and stay out of this nearly suffered a black eye.”

Shintaro looked at Ryuzo, who raised his hands palms-up. “Wasn’t me. I’ve always found her frightening. I wouldn’t dare.”

“I hear you spoke with General Liang,” Masaru said, and they discussed it on the way through to the main pagoda. At Jin’s gesture, the monks within it shuffled out to give them some privacy as they removed their sandals and walked within. 

Masako glanced up, sitting seiza with Yuna beside her and a young Cedar Temple monk. Masaru looked curiously at the monk as he sat with the others beside him. “Good news from Cedar Temple, I hope,” Masaru said. 

“Good and bad,” said the monk. 

“This is Chikao-san,” Yuna said. “He just made it past the blockade to the north.” Chikao bowed. 

“A remarkable feat,” Jin said. 

“Not particularly. Umugi Cove did most of the work. We used their swift, small smuggler’s river boats to get downstream during the night. If they didn’t know the rivers so well, we would’ve run aground,” Chikao said. 

“Where are the smugglers now?” Masaru asked. 

“Waiting. They’ll try and take me back upstream tonight. After Komoda Beach, we retreated to Kushi Temple and tried to defend it. Norio-sama tried to hold out against the siege, but it proved impossible against the Mongols’ new cannons and mortars. They rained fire on us from the sky for days.” Chikao looked grim. “Norio-sama sent me south with a message for you, Lord Sakai. That the Temple is more than just a temple, that he will wait for you to come north.” 

“His trust humbles me,” Jin said, though he looked troubled. Jin and his Ghosts had been busy liberating villages and sabotaging supply lines across Izuhara recently, and Jin hadn’t had the time to spare much thought for Toyotama and beyond.

“They’ve razed Yarikawa and Akashima, where else can he go?” Masako asked. 

“Norio-sama said to look for him and others like him past the torii gates.” Chikao looked Jin evenly in the eyes as he said this.

Jin nodded. “Good call.” At Ryuzo’s puzzled stare, Jin said, “Some headway was made repairing the shrines in Toyotama, particularly the very inaccessible ones. I presume Norio and any survivors would have retreated to some of them. They’re difficult to find and easy to defend.”

“He’d have to wait,” Masako grunted. “Scouts came through. General Jun-gi is at Komatsu Forge. General Fan Wenhu is at Castle Kaneda. Whose head should we take first?” 

“Neither,” Masaru said. At the sharp glance Jin shot him, Masaru raised a palm. “Hear me out. I don’t believe that General Liang was lying when she said that Fan Wenhu is a cautious man. We should try and push them to withdraw from Tsushima. There are too many enemy soldiers to face otherwise. Even if we killed a hundred of them each day, it’d take a whole year to kill them all.” 

“Sounds like it’d be a good year,” Masako said, her expression hard. 

“You think General Liang will switch sides?” Ryuzo asked, sceptical. 

“I prefer not to rely on things that stay outside my control. The ships that sailed south from Ariake bypassed Azamo, however, which I found interesting,” Masaru said. 

“Scouts said they didn’t head into Tsutsu. Looks like they just circled the island to sail back to Goryeo,” Yuna said, looking at Jin. “We gave them quite the scare, hm?” 

“A scare that I’d like to repeat at Komatsu. Goryeo morale is already low. If we make a concerted push, we could chase some of them off Tsushima. If we succeed in forcing General Jun-gi to call a retreat,” Masaru said. 

“Another Ghost army attack?” Jin asked, frowning to himself. “As hard as everyone worked, I’m not sure if it’d succeed again at Komatsu. General Jun-gi’s forces aren’t in disarray, and from what we’ve heard, morale might be low, but discipline remains tight.”

“According to the reports from the Shikken, General Jun-gi is a conscientious commander, a man who would have carefully studied the leaders of the lands he’s been tasked to conquer,” Masaru said.

“What are you getting at?” Masako asked, never having had much patience for people talking in circles, as far as Ryuzo remembered. 

“It means he knows about Jin, and he’d be prepared for sneak attacks. Besides, he was one of the generals who helped crush the Sambyeolcho Rebellion,” Ryuzo said. 

“He might not believe in _the_ Ghost, but by all reports, the General is still a religious and superstitious man,” Masaru said, smiling faintly at Masako. “I have a plan that is almost ready, but which will need you to play a starring role. Lady Masako.” 

“Me?” Masako said, surprised.

“You are, after all, renowned as the Lord of the Blade,” Masaru said, “the divine incarnation of Takemikazuchi-no-o-no-kami, the God of Thunder.”

“Please. You know that’s all nonsense.” Masako scoffed. 

“Some legends are earned, some are built,” Masaru said. “I’ll carve yours into the face of history.”

Masako laughed. “I don’t care about history. Or my ‘legend’. But if whatever you’ve cooked up will get rid of my enemies, I’ll hear it.”

#

The air smelled thick with the scent of the coming storm by the time Jin returned to the hidden overlook near Komatsu Forge with the other Ghosts behind him. “The preparations are complete,” Jin told Masaru.

“This is going to get me killed,” Masako complained as Shintaro and another Hōjō kashindan fussed over her, making final preparations. “Worse, I’m going to die looking ridiculous. I _feel_ ridiculous.” 

“Did you plan this?” Ryuzo asked Masaru. 

“One of several plans,” Masaru said, eyeing Masako critically. “There are only a few ways for a small force to defeat an overwhelming enemy, and I considered them all in depth over the last few years.” 

“You’re a frightening man. I’m beginning to see why your cousin the Shikken supposedly hates you,” Ryuzo said, chuckling as he sat down on a rock. “Maa, if you somehow live through this campaign and get home, you’d better watch your back.” 

“The Hōjō Clan’s stranglehold on power won’t last,” Masaru said with a dismissive wave, “and the more desperate my cousin becomes to hold on to it, the worse things will get. Still, I appreciate your point.” 

“Are you going to be all right?” Jin asked, lowering his voice as he walked up to Masako. 

She sniffed. “I’m not the one who’s going to be doing much. Compared to the rest of you.” 

“I meant. Your injuries,” Jin said. 

“Bring that up again, and you’ll be the first person I stab today,” Masako said with a warning stare. 

“Just asking,” Jin said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. 

He backed off to the corner of the overlook, threading past other ‘Ghosts’. Masaru’s kashindan had arrived in similar sets, albeit only similar on a passing glance. Black-dyed scale and leather armour, built to be silent, with black scowling masks. Not to imitate what Masako had done in Ariake, but to move silently and unnoticed in the dark. He recognised some of them as they waved at him—the same samurai who’d attacked the turtle ships. Nodding in response, Jin hid on a ledge. He’d never enjoyed the tense atmosphere of a pre-battle wait. 

Ryuzo sat beside Jin as Jin began to polish his katana. “Looks sort of familiar,” Ryuzo said with a nod at the blade. “I didn’t ask before.”

“It was Lord Harunobu’s. Before he inherited the Adachi clan blade.” 

“That old lady must really like you,” Ryuzo said, chuckling as he glanced over to the camp and stretched out his legs. “Giving that to you instead of her son?”

“Her son wants her blade, not his father’s.” 

“Unusual sentiment for a lord,” Ryuzo said, with an amused glance at Jin. “Usually, the lot of you are obsessed with your fathers.”

“We do live in a society that favours men over women,” Jin conceded. “Sons over daughters, fathers over mothers. Despite the contributions of women like Masako through history. I doubt it’d change anytime soon. Pity. Societies like ours will always remain incomplete.” 

“Oh?” 

“The lives we force upon our women are an injustice,” Jin said, “more so that many of us don’t even see it as an injustice. How can any society built on injustice be complete? We are an unfinished sculpture bent on staying unfinished.” 

“That’s people for you,” Ryuzo said, leaning back on the grass and folding his arms behind his head. “Nothing about life is fair. Maybe somewhere out there, there’s a society that’s learned how to get along without inbuilt inequality, but I somehow doubt it. I think if you look around the world, all you’d see is people who’ve learned how to hurt each other in different ways.” 

“Unable to learn from history,” Jin said, reflective.

“That’s right. A hundred years from now, a thousand years, it’d be the same.” 

Jin shivered. “I hope not.”

#

The storm came upon them earlier than they’d had hoped for. Ryuzo could only pray that it wasn’t a passing shower, or this was going to be embarrassing. He got into position close to the sprawling Goryeo encampment in and around Komatsu Forge, just as a rolling drumbeat from further up the road signalled the start of Masaru’s elaborate play.

Ryuzo didn’t see Jin or Yuna anywhere, and the thickening clouds overhead plunged the forest into a gloom. He shielded the lantern he’d hung on a branch against the worst of the rain, waiting for the next signal. Shouts from the encampment told Ryuzo that they now had an audience. 

The first crack of lightning overhead split the sky into shades of light and dark—the signal. Ryuzo cursed under his breath as he attempted to light his lantern in the sodden dark. Harder than he thought. Others winked alight among the trees, eerie and red floating globes in the dark. Ryuzo finally lit his without setting the whole damned thing on fire and slid out of the tree, hoping he wouldn’t sprain his ankle in the process. Sprinting to get into the next position. 

For something that hadn’t exactly been rehearsed, Ryuzo wasn’t sure what Masaru was hoping for. The screams and shouts from the encampment sounded promising, though. As Ryuzo got to the gap in the wooden palisade around the encampment, the drums rose to a crescendo. 

Down the road, Masako lit up the specially-treated blade that Masaru had given her. It did look even to Ryuzo as though she’d appeared out of nowhere. A woman with a flaming sword manifesting like a vengeful divine spirit on a dark road, in armour that seemed to shimmer and burn with its own light. Though Ryuzo knew that this was because of the highly polished mirror fragments festooned in a coat over her armour, his breath still caught in his throat. Masako’s hair streamed loose behind her in the wind. She raised her chin to the storm and howled. The howl echoed out of the throats of people hidden around the encampment as Masako gestured dramatically at the trees. One lit up into a torch with a crackling roar, having been strapped beforehand with explosives.

Ryuzo shook himself out of gawking and scurried into the camp, finding the nearest watchtower and scaling it. He killed the sentry at the top—the man died without even having looked away from the spectacle Masako made. Ryuzo notched the first explosive arrow to his bow and waited for the lightning. 

Masako gestured. Another tree lit up in the forest, but it turned out to be a sideshow as the heavens finally decided to play along—lightning cracked down, earthing over one of the thin steel-tipped staves that Jin had seeded quietly at vantage points in the encampment earlier in the day. The large tent began to burn, soldiers screaming as they scattered away from it. Ryuzo blinked the spots away from his eyes. He’d missed his cue due to surprise, but others hadn’t—explosions rocked through the encampment, adding to the chaos. Ryuzo took in a slow breath. 

Each time lightning forked overhead, he blew something up in the camp. Dying soldiers rolled on the ground, moaning, even as a man in gold-tipped scale armour charged out of a tent, still pulling on a pauldron, trying to shout order into his men over the storm. Whatever he made out had General Jun-gi rushing for the palisade gates, gesturing as he ordered his panicked men to open them, pulling himself onto a horse. 

This was where Masaru’s plan started to fall apart, in Ryuzo’s opinion. He shifted away from the edge of the watchtower and notched an arrow, aiming past the gate. He wouldn’t be able to take down many people before they reached Masako, but he could only hope that Jin and the others got in the way in time. Soldiers rallied to their General, mounting up and preparing for a charge. One excitable soldier kicked his horse into a canter without waiting, raising his sword above his head as he charged at the unearthly woman in the bright armour. 

Masako beckoned, even as lightning split down from the sky. The bolt struck the man charging her at the tip of his upraised sword. Ryuzo gawked. The blackened corpse fell out of his saddle, the dead horse managing another step out of momentum before falling over. The men at the gate screamed and wheeled their horses around, fleeing into the encampment. General Jun-gi froze in shock as Masako levelled her burning blade in his direction. 

Lightning hit another tent in the encampment and blew it into an unravelling ball of fire, the thunder from the explosion shaking even the tower under Ryuzo and blending into the storm. Jun-gi’s nerve broke. He turned and fled with his men, soldiers pelting after his heels. Ryuzo used up all his explosive arrows, then his normal ones, firing at the enemy as they ran. Soldiers fell and died out of nowhere, cut down by kunai and arrows and knives in the dark.

The storm began to abate by the time Ryuzo finished searching the encampment for survivors along with the other Ghosts. Drenched and standing just within the main forge building, Masako scowled as a pair of kashindan helped to remove the coat of mirror pieces from her armour. “I think I burned my eyebrows off,” she complained, glowering at Masaru. “Next time, _you_ stand in the rain with a flaming sword.” 

“How did you get it to burn so brightly?” Jin asked, turning the now-blackened blade in his hands. “Without extinguishing in the rain?”

“A chemical mixture. I employ several very clever people on the mainland,” Masaru said, dressed in dark armour himself and looking very smug. 

“You’re lucky that the actual Takemikazuchi-no-o-no-kami decided to contribute by smiting that soldier, or things would’ve gone awry very fast,” Ryuzo said as he got close. 

“I was prepared for a charge,” Masaru said, “though I confess this outcome was rather more spectacular.” 

“I didn’t realise that you could direct lightning using steel poles,” Jin said, looking suitably awed. “When you told me to plant those things in the camp, I didn’t actually believe that it’d work like you said.”

“Blessed at the Kashima Shrine at Ibaraki and hung with charms dedicated to the Lord of the Storm. I’m not sure if that truly makes much of a difference, but perhaps it did,” Masaru said. “I’ll get my cousin to make a suitably large contribution to the shrine on my return. In the meantime, Shintaro and his men will harry General Jun-gi’s forces, but should they regroup and return, we—”

“Lord Masaru!” One of the kashindan approached in a jog. “There’s a group of people on horseback beyond the gates. They say they wish to speak to Lord Sakai. They aren’t Japanese. Led by a woman?” 

“What?” Masaru said, even as Jin broke into a run, sprinting through the encampment, whistling for his horse. Ryuzo grimaced and ran after him. 

Four people in dark cloaks on horseback waited up the road, safely out of archer range. Ryuzo reined up behind Jin as they stopped at a safe distance, Jin glaring at the rider in the front as she pulled her hood back. Ryuzo couldn’t place General Liang’s age, hard-eyed as she was. Not as old as Masako, but not as young as Ryuzo and Jin.

“Interesting little act,” General Liang told Jin. “Not your idea, I presume.” 

“No,” Jin said. 

“I thought not. Dragons—and those with the potential to become dragons—don’t resort to petty stage tricks,” said General Liang.

“You were watching all this time?” Jin asked, wary. 

“I’ve been watching you for a while. Hasn’t that been obvious? You are, after all, coming ever closer to your goal,” Liang said.

“I could kill you here,” Jin said, tightening his grip over the hilt of his katana. “Four people are nothing to me.” 

“I suppose not,” Liang said with a thin smile. She looked behind Jin at the sound of horses approaching—likely Masaru and Shintaro catching up. “Perhaps another time. This stage grows crowded.” 

“Wait!” Jin said as Liang wheeled her horse around, the group cantering up the slope and into the forest. Ryuzo unslung his bow from his back, but Jin raised a palm to stop him. Jin glared at General Liang until she rode out of sight, his jaw tense and set.


	12. Chapter 12

General Jun-gi tried to fight back once he recovered from his fright, demoralised as his men were. It took a brutal campaign of more night-time raids and sabotage before Jun-gi finally gave in, packing people aboard all the ships he could gather offshore at Komatsu and sailing away. Those who weren’t lucky enough to get a berth scattered or fled north. Hunting them down was going to be a pain, Ryuzo told Jin as they rode north from Ariake into Hiyoshi. Especially if the thousands who remained decided to join up with Fan Wenhu’s army. Or Arakhan’s.

“It can’t be helped,” Jin said. He’d been quiet since the encounter with Liang, for reasons Ryuzo hadn’t yet been able to figure out. Surely it wasn’t because the woman unsettled Jin. Ryuzo had never seen Jin shaken by anything, not even a warrior as fearsome as Khotun Khan.

“Lord Masaru doesn’t have the forces to hold all of Azamo as well as Tsutsu,” Ryuzo said, but Masaru hadn’t looked too worried. Maybe he had a plan for that also. Lady Masako, on the other hand, retired to Ariake. She’d promised to ride out with Jin if he needed her, but Jin had demurred, saying that he wanted to take a look at Hiyoshi. Matters had been quiet over the border, though they hadn’t been able to spare any Ghosts or scouts north for a while.

“He doesn’t need to. Supply lines are starting to grow tight. Arakhan’s armies weren’t meant to occupy Tsushima. They were meant to raze it and move on,” Jin said. 

“Didn’t Arakhan manage Toyotama and Kamiagata?” Ryuzo asked. 

“The fact that he hasn’t poured back down here to finish us off makes me think that matters haven’t gone that well. Or perhaps he’s long sailed off to Iki and beyond. He has the numbers for that.” Jin glanced over at the edge of the cliff to their right, skirting through forests and avoiding the roads. 

“Half-assed way of doing things, isn’t it?” 

“He has to deliver a swift victory to Kublai Khan, or it’ll be his head on the chopping block,” Jin said. He paused at the first wafting scent of sulphur on the air. “We’re getting close to Hiyoshi village.”

Ryuzo nodded, trying not to pull a face. He liked onsens as much as any other man, but Hiyoshi village was effectively a huge natural onsen with buildings and bamboo groves littered around it. The smell was intense, permeating into everything in the village, even the food. Ryuzo could never stay for very long, having never been fond of the smell of sulphur lingering over his clothes. People who lived in Hiyoshi village likely lacked a sense of smell. 

Jin noticed—he looked amused but made no comment as they rode through the bamboo, circling the steep, winding access that led up to Ishikawa’s home. No soldiers anywhere to be seen—had the old man somehow escaped unscathed? As Ryuzo nudged his horse up the slope, Jin grabbed his shoulder and nodding up at the cliff. Ryuzo glanced up sharply. Nothing. “What?” he mouthed, but Jin gestured for him to draw his bow and dismounted. 

Ryuzo obeyed, covering Jin as Jin walked over to the side of the cliff, hefting his kanigawa and looking for a suitable place to grapple up to. As Jin swung the kanigawa up to an outcrop and began to climb, a pale face peeked out over a large rock, bow in hand. 

A young woman? Ryuzo gawked. As she notched an arrow to her bow, Ryuzo reacted belatedly. “Hoi!” He called up at her. “We’re friends of Ishikawa-sensei.” 

She stared suspiciously at them, then looked down at Jin. “Why are you climbing up like some bandit, then?” 

“…She does have a point,” Ryuzo conceded, returning the bow to his back and his arrow to his quiver.

Jin went still, then slid back down and unhooked the kanigawa. He looked up politely and said, “We’ll wait here. Please call Ishikawa-sensei over on our behalf. Tell him it’s Jin.” 

“All right,” said the woman, though she didn’t move, instead murmuring something that Ryuzo couldn’t catch. A boy with a bow rose from behind the rock, scurrying along the cliff and out of sight. 

“I didn’t realise Ishikawa-sensei was accepting new students,” Jin said, keeping his tone friendly. “You must be very gifted.”

“I’m not a student,” the woman said, a scarf wound over most of the lower half of her face. She stayed watchful until Ishikawa arrived on a horse, trotting down the slope without a care in the world. 

A visceral sense of vague shame always struck Ryuzo whenever he laid eyes on Ishikawa. The renowned archer had judged Ryuzo and Jin long ago when Jin’s uncle had sent them to Hiyoshi for possible archer training—they’d been young, but Ryuzo distinctly remembered being called a waste of time. Something like that would’ve usually just made him laugh, but from Ishikawa, it’d stung. Even though he didn’t even know the man, only his reputation. Ishikawa was known to take students regardless of class or gender, basing his decision on pure merit. That was probably why it’d hurt. Ryuzo hadn’t been a bad archer, just not good enough. Never good enough.

Ishikawa surveyed them both with a long stare. “So you live,” he told Jin. “I heard otherwise.” 

“I can’t claim credit for surviving. How is Hiyoshi?” Jin asked, curious. “We haven’t heard anything for a while.” 

“Come,” Ishikawa said, turning his horse around. Jin mounted up as they followed behind him, heading back up the cliff. “After Komoda Beach, I returned and evacuated everyone into the forests and shrines. Chinese forces held Hiyoshi village and its surrounds until very recently,” Ishikawa said as they rode. “A week ago, they decamped and retreated north. Your doing, I presume.” 

“I don’t know if I can claim credit for that either,” Jin said, looking surprised. He updated Ishikawa on what had happened so far until they rounded the steep slope to the sparse compound that Ishikawa called home. Villagers practised archery before training dummies, old and new. Jin looked them over as they passed, his expression carefully blank. Ryuzo held his tongue. Most of the villagers practising would maybe be half-decent if they practised for years—arrows littered the ground more than the dummies. 

“They wanted to learn,” Ishikawa said as he removed his sandals and led them into his small house. 

“That’s never stopped you from refusing to teach before,” Ryuzo said before he could help himself.

Ishikawa stared him down. “That was before I finally realised how even a basic grasp of archery might make the difference between life and death for the residents of the springs. I’ve been selfish for too long, I think.” 

“We have to adapt in times of war,” Jin said, with a warning glance at Ryuzo as he opened his mouth. 

Ishikawa shook his head. “I should’ve started teaching them earlier. Despite my fears of creating a second Tomoe. Just the basics would’ve helped save more of them.” He grunted as he found sake and some cups, waving them to a seat on old cushions. Jin took the cask and cups, pouring for them all. 

“General Fan Wenhu must have called for his soldiers to retreat and reinforce Castle Kaneda after you chased off the last Goryeo general,” Ishikawa said after he drank a sip. “You’ve startled the tiger.” 

“I intend to do more than startle it,” Jin said, raising his cup to his lips. “Your archers. How many of them might be good in a—”

“None,” Ishikawa said, curt as ever. “They’re all hopeless. However, most of them would at least likely not hit a friendly target. Good enough for your purposes, perhaps. How many of them do you intend to get killed?” 

Jin winced, even as Ryuzo laughed and drained his cup. “None of them,” Jin said as he drank again. “If possible, I’d like to take Castle Kaneda the same way I did the last time. With as few people as possible.” 

“They won’t underestimate us the same way they did before,” Ishikawa warned. “I’ve seen Castle Kaneda myself. Even for you, you’ll need an army to reach it now, let alone assault it.” 

“A distraction would work,” Jin said. 

“For the vast outer encampment, perhaps. The castle itself will likely remain sealed and unassailable, unless this General Fan decides to be foolish,” Ishikawa retorted.

“Unassailable from the land, maybe,” Jin said. At the frown that Ryuzo shot him, Jin said, “I saw a few Geobukseon ships on our way here. Not every ship retreated to Tsutsu.” 

“…You can’t be serious,” Ryuzo said, incredulous. 

“You heard Lord Masaru. Many of the ships we’re facing are badly built and new. Perhaps we’d only need one warship,” Jin said.

“And how exactly would we sail it anywhere? You’re no sailor, and neither am I. No one on this island would have any experience crewing a warship, even if we _could_ cobble together a crew,” Ryuzo said.

“Geobukseon… those dragon-headed ships?” Ishikawa asked, looking reflective. “Interesting. A terrible idea, but perhaps not one that completely lacks merit. A Song ship would be better. They have the most advanced naval technology in this part of the world, and their ships look similar enough to ours that perhaps smugglers from Umugi Cove or retired sailors in these parts could be persuaded to crew it.” 

“If we can get in contact with Umugi Cove,” Jin said, though he nodded and looked a little disappointed. 

“You just want to be aboard one of those things again,” Ryuzo said, prodding Jin in the shoulder. “Wasn’t the last time enough? It stank in there. Felt like the walls were closing in on me.” 

“Well, not really,” Jin mumbled, having always been a terrible liar. “A Song ship… wouldn’t those all be moored at Komoda Beach or near Castle Kaneda? How can we tell them apart from the other ships?” 

Ishikawa sniffed loudly. “This is why I didn’t originally want to take either of you as students. The hallmark of any half-decent archer is an eye for detail. Weren’t the two of you at Komoda Beach as well when the Song soldiers disembarked?”

“We were busy trying not to die at the time,” Ryuzo said. A ship looked like any other ship to him, unless it was wildly different like the Geobukseon warships.

“You can identify a Song warship on sight?” Jin asked, looking hopeful. As Ishikawa nodded, Jin brightened up. “Then let’s go and have a look at the coastline.” 

“I have another pressing problem,” Ishikawa said, even as a boy ducked his head into the room, flushed with excitement.

“Ishikawa-sensei!” the boy said. “Himari-san says they’re back at the village!” 

Ishikawa set his cup aside and rose to his feet. “Since you’re both here, the two of you might as well pull your weight,” he said, and swept out of the room before Ryuzo could even ask what it was, the boy on his heels.

“I dislike that old man so much,” Ryuzo muttered.

#

Hiyoshi village had a bandit problem. No surprise, given that the invading Chinese had first driven all the farmers out of their fields, then taken all the stores with them when they’d retreated north, destroying what they could before they’d left. Mindful of Yuna’s words, Jin felt uncomfortable helping Ishikawa track the bandits to their encampment, killing them all. Not so long ago, most of these men had likely been peaceful people.

“Why so glum?” Ryuzo asked as they walked out of the camp behind Ishikawa. The bandits had been relatively successful raiders—their base had stores of medicines, supplies, and even raw materials like iron. Ryuzo and Jin packed whatever looked useful on the bandits’ horses, leading them along. 

“Just thinking of something Yuna said,” Jin said as they got on their horses. “She told off Lord Takemi and me for talking about you.” 

“Me?” Ryuzo said, surprised. 

“Said she had no patience for daimyō lords criticising a peasant when we don’t know what it’s like to be hungry all the time,” Jin said. Jin had reflected on Yuna’s words now and then since, and still felt unsettled.

“Surely you didn’t eat all that well after the first invasion,” Ryuzo said, “and you haven’t been a daimyō lord for seven years.”

“I didn’t eat well, but not because I couldn’t. I could hunt, fish, and clear out Mongol encampments by myself. I didn’t eat much because I didn’t have an appetite, not because I couldn’t. The past seven years have been the same. The skills I have that allowed me to feed myself… I only have them because of the way I grew up.” 

“Huh,” Ryuzo said, still surprised. “I didn’t think she even liked me all that much.”

“She doesn’t. I don’t think it was about you. Not personally. She had a difficult childhood—she and her brother were from Yarikawa.”

“Ahh.” Ryuzo sobered. “That’s rough. Look. I grew up in Castle Shimura too. Same as you did. I learned the same skills. Wasn’t like I was hungry and desperate the way she would’ve been as a kid.”

“That changed during the invasion.” 

“Sort of. Feeding myself wouldn’t have been all that hard, though. Just like you, I can hunt and fish. Caring for all of the Straw Hats, though—on top of finding medication for those injured from Komoda Beach…” Ryuzo made a helpless gesture. “I’m not trying to excuse myself. Just. Never mind, I don’t know what I’m trying to say.” 

“You’re both hopeless,” Ishikawa said from the front. 

“You’re ruining the mood, old man,” Ryuzo shot back. Ishikawa huffed and nudged his horse, urging it to put some distance between them. 

Jin hid a smile. “Don’t annoy him. We need him.”

“To identify a ship? Your plan, by the way, is terrible. Japanese ships are very different, and nobody’s going to know how to use a Song cannon.” Ryuzo paused. “I think.” 

“Who would?”

“If anyone would, it’d be Lord Masaru.” Ryuzo looked soberly at Jin. “If you’re bent on this plan, I’m going to cross back into Komatsu and talk to him. He should still be at the Forge.”

“All right,” Jin said, a little reluctantly. “Be careful. I’ll wait for you in Hiyoshi village.” 

“Don’t get started without me,” Ryuzo said, nudging his horse closer and leaning in to kiss Jin on the cheek. He chuckled as Jin turned to take his mouth, a hungry taste, all too brief. Turning his horse, Ryuzo cut west through the forest. 

Ishikawa looked dour as Jin caught up with him. “Your friend abandoned you again?” Ishikawa asked. 

“He’s gone to talk to Lord Masaru about the plan.”

“So it was an impulsive plan, thought up on your way here,” Ishikawa said, exhaling. “It continues to surprise me how you’re still alive. Yet that divine luck you wear is precisely the reason why I’ve been willing to reconsider my initial decision not to accept you as a student.” 

“I’m grateful for your guidance,” Jin said, though he smiled to himself. 

Ishikawa glanced at the tanto at Jin’s hip. “An unfortunate loss. My condolences.”

“I miss him. Every day.” 

“All children must learn to live without their parents,” Ishikawa said, because far be it for Ishikawa to extend any empathy for all that long. 

“I suppose so.” 

“Your life diverged from his seven years ago. Even if it hadn’t, death is fate. Every samurai must accept it with grace.”

“I don’t think he died with all that much grace,” Jin said, shuddering as he recalled what Yuna had described. 

“Dying in defence of what you want to protect is the best way for a samurai to die,” Ishikawa said. 

“Is that part of the Way of the Bow as well?”

“I wonder,” Ishikawa said, and would speak no more as they rode back to the village, disappearing up the slope. 

Left to himself, Jin washed, then soaked in the springs, closing his eyes. He tried to clear his mind but found his thoughts drifting back to Ryuzo. All these years and Ryuzo was still the one person Jin couldn’t predict. It’d made their childhood friendship interesting, and given them grief as adults. Being near Ryuzo was exciting in the way nothing else was: like the world gaining clarity, the air growing sweeter. 

Jin might as well admit it to himself, painfully evident as it was. He was in love with Ryuzo. When had that started? Or had it always been there, just that he’d buried it so deeply that it’d taken betrayal and trauma to shake it loose? Jin sat in the onsen for as long as he safely could, and rose out of the water without feeling wiser. Or relaxed. After dressing, Jin whistled his horse over. Restless as he still was, he’d feel better after a long ride through the woods.


	13. Chapter 13

Ryuzo returned with Captain Shintaro and a small group of people Jin didn’t recognise. Jin had spent the time in between re-exploring Hiyoshi, scouting Castle Kaneda’s encampment, and helping out where he could. Unlike Azamo and Ariake, in Hiyoshi, people had been mainly left to fend for themselves. Jin had been surprised that things hadn’t collapsed into total anarchy. Then again, the previous invasion had shown him that people didn’t need a ruling class to find a way to survive. 

“Another Oda messenger got through, this time to Lord Masaru,” Shintaro said as they gathered in the courtyard of Ishikawa’s house. “The situation north is dire. Lord Hideyoshi can’t hold out for that much longer.” 

“It’s not like we can do much to help,” Ryuzo said, “what with an army and a fortress in the way.” 

“Assuming that Lord Sakai’s plan works, it’ll clear a path for us to ride north with reinforcements,” Shintaro said, though he sounded unenthusiastic about either prospect. 

Jin looked at the men behind Shintaro. “Who will be our captain?” 

Shintaro gestured at a man huddled at the back of the group. “Him. Don’t you recognise him?” 

Jin studied the uncomfortable man’s face, trying to place it. Stout, hunched man, silvery hair, deep wrinkle lines. The man smiled uneasily, and that was when it clicked. “Goro-san!” Jin said, surprised. “I last saw you making a run for the mainland on your ship. A brave charge through that blockade with my uncle’s messengers.”

Goro shook his head, raising his palms. “If not for that miracle you pulled off with that fire arrow thing, I’d never have gotten that far. It was incredible, watching you rain death down on the Mongol blockade. Maa, if only we had a hundred of those weapons now.”

“What are you doing here?” Jin asked, looking between Goro and Shintaro. 

“When I agreed to do that last favour for Lord Shimura, I didn’t think that the shōgunate court wouldn’t let me leave,” Goro said, looking glum. “I thought my duty would be done the moment I dropped off his messengers at Hakata Bay. More fool me, hm? You samurai.” 

Jin looked at Shintaro, aghast. Shintaro said, “Lord Masaru had been watching the bay for a while, waiting for an attack that never did come. When a ship made it through the blockade, we took an interest.” 

“To confine a man for seven years, though? Isn’t that a bit much?” Jin asked. 

Shintaro looked pointedly at Goro. “Did we confine you for seven years?” 

“No, but it was a trap,” Goro said, looking sadder. “Lord Masaru was very curious and generous and kind, saying he wanted to learn all about sailing and life on the sea and Umugi Cove and all that. Before I knew it, I’d gotten married to the daughter of one of his kashindan, stopped drinking so much, and had a son. Then seven years in, the Mongols attack again, and Lord Masaru tells me, ‘Goro, you’re finally going to be useful.’ So. Here I am. I thought all he’d need was for me to captain a ship over here and let me leave with the rest, but no. Nooo.” 

“Oh,” Jin said, taken aback by the torrent. “Can you captain a Song Chinese warship?”

“Hai… if it floats and sails, I can captain it,” Goro said, looking miserable as he said it. “I wish I never said that to Lord Masaru. That man remembers everything. Even an offhand comment said over sake seven years ago.” 

“Can’t we capture a Geobukseon, then?” Jin asked, a little hopefully.

“Lord Masaru considered that in Azamo Bay,” Shintaro said, “but given what we’ve seen of the interior, even if Goro was able to learn how to sail one of those ships on the fly, the learning curve for our other sailors might be too steep.” 

Jin’s disappointment must have shown—Ryuzo smacked him on the arm and gave him a pointed stare that was full of laughter. The men behind Shintaro looked surprised. Jin didn’t blame them. Jin _had_ been born the son of a lord, who’d then become a living legend. No one who knew him and his reputation would touch him so easily. Other than Ryuzo. 

“We’ll wait for nightfall,” Shintaro said, tactfully choosing not to see it. “Ishikawa-sensei, would that make things more difficult for you?” 

“Don’t insult me,” Ishikawa said, stalking off toward the practice grounds.

Shintaro looked so taken aback that Jin ventured to say, “That’s how he normally is. You didn’t offend him.” 

“I’ve heard the stories, but meeting him in reality is…” Shintaro trailed off.

“Depressing?” Ryuzo supplied.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Shintaro said, still the diplomat. “I’ll see the rest of you tonight.”

Jin went riding with Ryuzo out of Ishikawa’s house, even though Ryuzo complained that he needed a nap. Jin led them to a hidden nook in a set of piled rocks that he had found seven years ago by chance, with an old shrine to Inari Ōkami that was still there, mossy and overgrown. He made a silent apology to the fox god as he crowded Ryuzo against a stone slab and kissed him. The private world they wove between them as they kissed was a drug for Jin’s senses. He chased it in the dark between his dreams, in the empty space beside him when he was alone. He licked for it in the warm, giving space of Ryuzo’s mouth, in the tang of salt against his throat, in the tremor against his lips as Ryuzo laughed, low and just as hungry. 

Love burned in Jin as a curse. Blessings were never this hungry, never this wretched. Blessings did not fill people with this hollow, aching, wrenching longing, did not threaten to asphyxiate them with greed. Jin scoured curse-marks down Ryuzo’s back with the blunt tips of his fingers, fed it with blood as he broke the skin beneath Ryuzo’s collar with his teeth, breathed it alive with each broken gasp shared between their lips. This was how you fed a curse: with blood and suffering and madness. All in exchange for a little sweetness, as Ryuzo pulled him close and stroked his hair, as they sank into the grass before the shrine of a God whose business was desire.

#

Shintaro chose the warship at the corner of the pack, even though Goro hemmed and hawed and said he preferred the look of the one in the middle. They were still arguing in whispers as their rowboats closed in on the ship. Jin couldn’t see any difference between it and the middle ship. Both sat sleekly in the water, their fin-like rectangular sails folded up for the night.

The graceful lines of the ship made it look like the shadow of a koi, peering up from the sea, a large paddle wheel affixed to the stern where a tail should be. Now that Jin was up close, he did feel a little embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed the obvious differences between the Song ships and the others. Still, it wasn’t as though there’d been nothing to distract him on Komoda Beach. 

“Goro-san,” Jin whispered, tiring of the argument, “exactly why do you prefer the ship in the middle? Aren’t they the same?”

“I have a good feeling about it,” Goro said, cringing under Jin’s stare.

“A good feeling, how?” Ryuzo asked. “You’d better not be wasting our time, or genius captain or not, I’m pushing you overboard right now.” 

“All right, all right. Look at it. It’s sitting lower in the water, which means. Maybe it has more loot?” Goro said with a placating smile. 

Shintaro sighed, even as Ryuzo said, “That’s it? You’re one of the kashindan now too, same as me. What, you think we aren’t being paid enough? Bring it up with Lord Masaru.” 

“Old habits are had to break? Besides, I was hoping that the spoils of war might maybe be a bonus…” Goro trailed off under Ryuzo’s angry stare. 

“Or it might be heavier in the water because it has a lot more crew,” Shintaro pointed out. “Besides, it’s in a bad position. The ships on either flank might fire on it, while the ship on the rightmost side can get away more easily.” 

“According to Ishikawa-sensei, the ships on either side aren’t Song Chinese ships, and I’ve seen how fast the Song ships can go. If you get us aboard, I can get us out of range. Though,” Goro conceded, deflating a little, “maybe it _is_ because there’s more crew.” 

“If so, that makes me curious,” Jin said, looking at the heavier ship. “We’ll board that one, then.” 

Ryuzo gave Jin a horrified expression, even as Shintaro rubbed a hand slowly over his face. He didn’t argue though, directing the rowboats to change course. They circled behind the ships, avoiding sentries, the sounds of their rowing hidden from the creaking groans of the ships around them. As they closed in on the ship Goro pointed out, Jin glanced at Shintaro, who nodded and made a cutting gesture at the other boats. They swung their grappling hooks up the flanks of the ship and began to climb. 

An arrow from Ishikawa took out a sentry at the prow, even as Jin darted over to the sentry lounging by the mainmast, pouncing on him and breaking his neck. Ishikawa and a couple of archers began taking out the sentries on the nearest ship as Jin, Ryuzo and Shintaro went below decks, their knives busy, until the decks were wet with blood and the stink of the dying. The crew canvassed each cabin and section efficiently as a team, clearly having gotten a lot of practice since Jin had last boarded a ship with Shintaro. 

Jin wondered how his uncle would feel about that as he knifed a man in the storage hold, then threw a kunai into the face of a man jerking free from a hammock. Despite all that Lord Shimura wished for, the samurai had evolved. Or perhaps this ferocity had always been part of the samurai, and it was Lord Shimura who’d pretended that they were something more.

As he cleared the hold and went back up, Jin found Shintaro and Goro studying the rows of cannon. Each weapon was exquisitely made, resembling the mouth and body of a roaring dragon, nestled on bronze haunches that cunningly hid the wheels. “What’s wrong?” Jin asked. 

“We can’t figure out why this ship is sitting lower in the water,” Shintaro said. 

“I have a good idea about why, but rather than demonstrate right now, I think we should get clear from the area first,” Goro said, looking uneasily out past the cannon. 

“Good call,” Jin decided. “Where do you want us?” 

Shintaro directed some of the men to the cannons and a number to the strange mechanisms that would move the large paddle wheel, but everyone else went to the upper decks. Goro studied the sails, mumbling to himself, then the stern-post rudder. Satisfied, he waved them all into position. Not knowing what to do and not wanting to get in the way, Jin waited at the stern, drawing his bow. 

The ship shuddered eagerly beneath him as they weighed anchor and the sails unfurled, catching the wind. It gained speed as it surged out from rest, shooting out toward the dark edge of the sea even as men from the ships behind it shouted in alarm. Seeing the confusion, Jin asked Shintaro, “Can your men operate the cannon?” 

“We’ve had a little training,” Shintaro said. 

“…We’re so blowing ourselves up,” Ryuzo said, though he hurried below decks. 

Jin glanced at Goro. “Turn the ship to face its flank to the prow of that ship.” 

“I thought we were just going to escape,” Goro protested, though he obligingly operated the stern-post rudder, the ship groaning but twisting in the waves. Once they cut in position, Jin yelled, “ _Fire_.” 

There was a pause where nothing happened, then a cough of fire and light. Explosions rocked the enemy ship, heaving it against the waves and setting it alight. A second barrage sunk it, sending it listing in the water as men dived overboard. “Get us closer to the other two,” Jin said. This time, Goro didn’t argue. The ship caught the wind, cutting through the sea as it swung within range. It roared, spitting death at the ships it faced until three new torches were burning brightly over the sea. 

Goro slowed the ship down once they reached the open sea. “Now what?” he asked Shintaro and Jin. “They’ll be scouring the coastline for us soon.” 

“Ariake Bay,” Jin said, even as Shintaro nodded. 

It felt unsettling being on a ship this quick. Jin leant against the rail with Ryuzo, watching the world fly past. “Makes you wonder how they lost to the Mongols,” Ryuzo said as the wind tore at their clothes. “They had better weapons, better everything.” 

“Technology isn’t everything,” Jin said, though he’d wondered that himself walking through the ship. As he’d fought the ranks of the Song Chinese in their elaborate armour with their disciplined tactics, faced their mortars and hand cannons and black powder weapons. 

They dropped anchor in Ariake Bay and sent one of Shintaro’s men off to notify Masako of their presence. Goro went below decks the moment they furled the sails, muttering to himself as he wandered slowly from stern to prow. He did that deck by deck with Jin, Ryuzo, and Shintaro at his heels, until at last Ryuzo said, “If you can’t figure it out, just say so.” 

“I know what it is. I’m just trying to guess where it is,” Goro said. 

“Guess where what is?” Jin asked, tired enough that he was starting to lose his patience. Dawn was breaking over the horizon. 

“A smuggler’s hold. Or a compartment. Something,” Goro said. 

“Why would a warship have something like that?” Shintaro scoffed. 

“Who knows? I’m just telling you: there’s either a hidden hold, or there’s a giant sea monster attached to our belly,” Goro said and laughed as Ryuzo flinched and looked involuntarily out of a porthole. Ryuzo growled and took a step forward, and Goro hastily ducked behind JIn. 

“Ishikawa-sensei’s still aboard, isn’t he? Let him figure it out,” Jin said. Even if it’d mean the old archer would start haranguing them about their lack of an eye for detail again. 

Ishikawa looked annoyed to be put to work. After a look around the outside of the ship and then within, he gestured at the captain’s cabin. “This room is too small. The back wall is false.” 

“So we chop that up or…?” Ryuzo began. 

Ishikawa exhaled. He stared at Jin, who looked blankly back, stifling yawns. “I hoped for better from you,” Ishikawa complained. He walked over, pressing over parts of the deck that, on hindsight, did look a little darker than the others. The wall shuddered and turned, unsealing to reveal an inner chamber. Ryuzo staggered back, coughing and covering his nose. Ishikawa grimaced, even as Jin and Shintaro peered in. A man long dead lay sprawled over a chest, dressed in plain brown clothes. Other chests lined the room, bound to the walls so that they wouldn’t move around during a storm. 

Racked at the end of the chamber was a suit of Song mountain armour with gold and black scales, trimmed with white fur and gold silk. A four-clawed dragon twisted cunningly across the shoulders and flanks, the make of the armour giving the illusion of it being coiled protectively around the wearer, ending with its snarling, horned head glaring out against the chestpiece. It was the most beautiful piece of armour Jin had ever seen.

“I thought only their emperors could wear a dragon,” Ryuzo said, staring at the suit. 

“The five-clawed dragon, yes. Princes and lower nobles could wear the four-clawed dragon. Lower-ranking officials can wear the three-clawed,” Jin said, recalling his lessons. 

Goro untied and tried to drag over one of the chests, grimacing as he had to haul on it with all his might even to shift it a fraction. He gave up settled for prying open the lid with a knife, then stared at the dark steel contents in confusion. “Are those bombs?” He opened another chest, this one with a bundle of long rods, similar to the one that General Kim had pointed at Jin. “I don’t even know what this does,” Goro said, dismayed. “Where’s all the gold? Or jewels?”

Each chest contained weapons or devices of some sort, most of which Jin didn’t recognise, let alone understand how to operate. Ryuzo patted a despondent Goro on the back. “Look at it this way,” Ryuzo said with a smirk. “You were right. It was worth stealing this ship. What do you even need gold for, eh? There’s nothing to buy in Tsushima right now. We might all die tomorrow at the rate we’re going.” 

“I rue the day I ever met Lord Masaru,” Goro said sadly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Ghost is already cribbing so heavily from Assassin’s Creed, I might as well crib the best part of asscreed for me: the ship system. Black Flag is probably my fave asscreed game, because it’s the least like asscreed. 
> 
> For people who haven’t played the game, Goro is an actual character in the first game. Nothing to do with Yakuza’s Majima Goro.
> 
> Song dynasty ships http://afe.easia.columbia.edu/songdynasty-module/tech-compass.html  
> https://courses.lumenlearning.com/boundless-worldhistory/chapter/the-song-dynasty/


	14. Chapter 14

“I thought you’d want to stay aboard the ship,” Ryuzo said as they watched the newly named _Koinobori_ sail out from Ariake Bay. 

“It would’ve been fun,” Jin conceded, “but there’s work to be done onshore.” 

“So what’s the plan, hm?” Masako asked, having ridden out with a curious Takemi to explore the ship—after the bodies had been cleared off and burned. Behind her, Adachi kashindan loaded the heavy chests of weapons onto wagons. 

“Captain Shintaro and Goro-san will try and damage all the Song ships they can find with hit and run tactics,” Jin said, having outlined this with Shintaro on the way here. “I’ll get in contact with Lord Masaru. I’ll need his forces and yours to create a distraction that’d allow me to get through the encampment. Once Captain Shintaro notices the distraction underway, he’ll fire on Castle Kaneda. I’ll infiltrate it during the chaos that ensues.” 

“By yourself?” Ryuzo said, sceptical. “To do what?”

“Assassinate General Fan,” Jin said. He nodded at the dragon armour beside the cart. “Wearing that, I might be able to get through. I’ve done it before with Mongol armour. Seven years ago.” 

Ryuzo shook his head. “Lord Masaru said we should be trying to get Fan Wenhu to call a retreat, not murder him.” 

“I don’t see how we might be able to do that,” Jin said. 

“Is murder now your response to everything?” Ryuzo asked, though he exhaled. “Fine, if that’s what you want to do. We have all that salvaged Song armour from the people we just killed. I’ll go with you.” 

“No. I’ll do this alone,” Jin said. Ryuzo gave him an exasperated look but said nothing, turning to scowl at the burning bodies. There was never any point arguing with Jin once he made up his mind, but it didn’t mean that Ryuzo had to like it.

“I’ll send a messenger to Lord Masaru and advise you once we’re ready,” Masako said, glancing between them. “Where should I send word to?” 

“Hiyoshi village,” Jin said and had to stifle a yawn. “My apologies.” 

“Rest. You can set off tonight,” Masako said, waving them toward the horses. Too sleepy to argue, Jin got on a borrowed horse and followed Masako back to the Adachi holdings. The damaged gate had been repaired, and the scars from the attack had been mostly smoothed over. 

“How is Mai-san?” Jin asked as they dismounted in the central courtyard.

“Recovering,” Masako said, unwilling to say more and glancing at Takemi when he opened his mouth. “Nothing to worry you about. Rest.” 

Jin frowned but allowed himself to be chivvied to the guest housing with Ryuzo behind him. “Something doesn’t feel right,” Jin said, yawning as he started to pull off his armour.

“Whatever it is, you’re not going to take care of it falling over on your feet.” Ryuzo walked over to help with the knots on Jin’s gear with gentle fingers. “Are you seriously going to try and sneak through the military blockade and into Castle Kaneda by yourself?”

“I’ve done it twice,” Jin said. 

“Seven years ago, the army you faced wasn’t this big.” 

“That works in my favour as well. An army like that can’t know everyone within it. I’d get through more easily in disguise than I did before.” 

Ryuzo blew out another exasperated sigh. “So why can’t I go with you, hm? You think I’ll slow you down?” Jin would have a point if that were the case—but Ryuzo would rather Jin just said something like that to his face. 

Jin gave him a strange, unreadable look. “Ryuzo… what I do. It scares you, doesn’t it?” 

“What?” 

“I’ve seen it when we were defending this place. Again when we were in General Kim’s camp. The way you look at me on the battlefield, like I’m someone you can’t even recognise.” 

“Come now,” Ryuzo said, forcing a laugh. “That’s it? Jin, you’ve always been frightening, all right? Even before the first war. You’re a highly talented swordsman and—”

“It isn’t it, but I don’t like that,” Jin said with an unhappy twist to his mouth. “I don’t want to see it.” 

“What is it, then? You just want to risk your own life and not mine? That’s stupid, if that’s what it is. You’ve already asked me to do that for you before.” Even if Ryuzo hadn’t chosen to at the time.

“One more person with me won’t make a huge difference—”

“It might. It’s between nobody watching your back and somebody being there.” Ryuzo closed his fist in Jin’s collar and hauled him closer, but Jin met his glare with infuriating calm. “ _Jin_.” 

“One of the last things my uncle said to me before he… before the battle at Komoda Beach was that my strength both humbled him and frightened him,” Jin said. Something flickered through his expression that Ryuzo couldn’t catch. “That I had the strength of an oni.” 

“Well, you do,” Ryuzo said, having seen firsthand precisely what Jin could do over and over and still never being able to quite believe it. “What’s wrong with that? It’s exactly what Tsushima needs. Now and before. If you couldn’t do what you do, you’d be long dead.” 

“The people of Tsushima call me a vengeful ghost, my uncle called me an oni, and a Chinese General wants me to become a dragon,” Jin said, looking away. “I don’t like any of it. What I’ve done. Yet it also gives me a sense of what I must do next, and how to do it.”

“You don’t like it… you’re ashamed?” Ryuzo said, incredulous. 

“Not as much as I should be, not anymore. Seven years ago, when I defeated my uncle in a duel and declined to kill him as he asked me to, I told him I had no honour. I don’t…” Jin let out a frustrated sound. “What am I trying to say?” 

“I think you’re twisting yourself into knots for no good reason,” Ryuzo said, studying Jin carefully. “What’s wrong with being the strongest swordsman on the island? I wish I were half as good as you are.” 

“That’s not all that I am, is it?” Jin looked so haunted that somehow it ached to see it. “That being said, ghost or oni, it didn’t matter. I still didn’t do very much at all at Komoda Beach. Two-thirds of Tsushima still got razed. Why have I done all this to myself when it hasn’t mattered?” 

“Hasn’t mattered?” Ryuzo grabbed Jin’s arm. “Right. You’re coming with me.” 

Jin dug in his heels. “Where?” 

“To talk to that scary old woman and her son, and tell them what you’ve done so far hasn’t mattered. Everyone else who survived in the Adachi clan holdings. Hiyoshi village.” 

“That wasn’t all because of me,” Jin said. 

“Some of it was—a lot of it. You’re the reason why Lord Masaru’s Sambyeolcho strategy worked as well as it did in Azamo—people remembered what you’d done before in their name. You’re the reason why morale’s high in Ariake even now, with your ‘Ghost’ army. You’re the reason why I’m here.” 

Jin blinked. He’d started to disagree, only to come up short, looking up uncertainly at Ryuzo. “Aren’t you here because of Lord Masaru?” 

“I’ve served him in good faith for years. I don’t owe him that much. I came back to Tsushima because I wanted to see you again, even if I didn’t want to admit that to myself at the time. Because of unfinished business.” 

Jin looked bewildered, then gasped as Ryuzo leaned in to kiss him. It was a white lie that Ryuzo kissed against Jin’s mouth, but it worked—Jin wrapped his arms around Ryuzo’s neck with a muffled and shaky moan. Ryuzo hadn’t thought of doing this with Jin before that night they’d shared in Jin’s hideout. He’d allowed himself to be swept under into the force of nature that Jin was, that sometimes seemed to compress reality itself out of his way. Whether what Ryuzo felt now was entirely new or only partly new didn’t matter to him, not with Jin so warm and present in his arms as they sank to their knees. 

“I know you’re lying to me,” Jin whispered as Ryuzo tickled his fingers around the back of Jin’s neck. “I don’t think you came back because of me. Not entirely. And not for something like this. Yet it’s a lie that I want to believe,” Jin said, as Ryuzo took in a slow breath. “That you might have come back for me. That you might feel for me the way that I do for you. That I won’t lose you to this war… or that you won’t leave me once it suits you to leave.” Jin’s voice wavered. “Just as you did before.” 

“Jin…” Ryuzo pushed Jin down onto the tatami, holding his weight off Jin’s body. Jin tried to pull him into a kiss, but Ryuzo resisted, pinning one of Jin’s wrists beside his head. “Jin, what can I do to get you to trust me again?” 

Jin stared up at Ryuzo, momentarily surprised out of his odd mood. “I do trust you.” 

“No, you clearly don’t. Listen to what you just said.”

“Because I don’t think you’re going to stay? You aren’t. You’ve said so yourself.” 

Ryuzo traced the swell of Jin’s lower lip. “What do you want out of this, Jin? This thing between us.” 

“I haven’t thought that far.” 

“You do realise how messy it’ll be, don’t you? Even if we survive the war, even if you earn that amnesty that Lord Masaru waved around. As a daimyō lord, you’d have obligations again.”

“So you’d rather give up?” Jin’s temper flared. “Lord Masaru’s one to speak. Him and Captain Shintaro—”

“Him and Shintaro aside, Lord Masaru married who he was told to marry on behalf of his clan, has a son, and has spent his entire life working to shore up his cousin’s power. The Shikken doesn’t give a damn about what else Lord Masaru might want to do in private. It isn’t inconvenient.” 

“Is that what you think of us? Inconvenient?” 

“Aren’t you treating it that way?” Ryuzo shot back. “You want to kiss and hold me when we’re alone, but once you’ve got something important to do, you don’t want me there. Because there’s only one side of you that you want me to see, is that it? Jin, it’s too late. I know you. From when you were an annoying kid who cried all the time but would still face down groups of children older than he was. To a young man who’d rather beat a friend half to death than lose a friendly duel, to a lord who somehow managed to fight back an invasion and kill a Khan. You’ve always been frightening. You’ve always frightened _me_.” 

Jin went very pale. “That isn’t it, but Ryuzo, I—”

“But as before, even from the beginning, I can’t help but be drawn to you anyway. Even the part of you that scares me. I don’t just want to be with some aspect of yourself that you think convenient or unthreatening or whatever. It won’t work anyway—I _already know_ you. I want you—all of you. Not just the part of you that’s easy to want.” 

Tears welled in Jin’s eyes. “I… didn’t think you’d…!” 

“Oi, oi,” Ryuzo said, taken aback by Jin’s response. “Aren’t you too old to be—” He yelped as Jin flipped them over with a wrestler’s grace, hands clenched on Ryuzo’s shoulders as they kissed with uneven violence. 

“Ryuzo, _Ryuzo_.” Jin kept whispering Ryuzo’s name as they kissed, as though trying out the weight of it on his tongue, as though he were trying to burn the word into his memory. Under his skin. Ryuzo pressed a thigh between Jin’s legs and hummed as Jin gasped and rode it eagerly, the folds of their hakama getting rucked up against their knees. 

“The things I want to do to you,” Ryuzo breathed, pulling Jin’s kimono open to his navel. 

“Do them, then. All of them,” Jin said, a challenging gleam in his eye even as he blushed. 

“Hai, where did the shy and stammering virgin go?” Ryuzo asked, grinning as he took a lingering kiss. “Damn. I’ve got something for this, but it’s in my saddlebags. Back in Hiyoshi Village.” 

“Something for what?” Jin asked, then gasped as Ryuzo rubbed a hand up his thigh under his hakama to squeeze his ass.

“Something that makes things a little more fun,” Ryuzo said, even as the shoji door banged open to his left. 

“Oi, Jin, why didn’t you show me around your new warship before you…” Yuna trailed off, staring at the two of them. She started to laugh, even as Jin hastily climbed off Ryuzo, turning bright red. 

Thankfully, the courtyard behind Yuna was empty. Ryuzo pinched the bridge of his nose. “Couldn’t you have announced yourself? Where are your manners?” 

“Lady Masako said the two of you were going to sleep or something, so I thought I’d check in on Jin before riding off to look for Lord Masaru,” Yuna said, waggling her eyebrows. “I didn’t realise she meant this? Or did she?” 

“…I’m going to bed,” Ryuzo growled, getting up and stalking off.

#

Jin hadn’t meant to happen on a private argument—he’d gotten hungry after sleeping for a few hours and had crawled awake to find something to eat. He ducked behind the steep stairs leading to the upper floor of the main clan house as voices drifted down to where he was.

“—barely survived the last attack and now you want to throw what’s left of our people at the biggest army left in Izuhara?” Mai demanded. She sounded on the verge of tears. 

“Jin needs us there.” That was Masako, her tone gentle but firm. 

“Lord Sakai tends to assume that everyone is as good and as lucky as he is,” Mai shot back. “If you go to face this army, who will stay here with me? With Takemi?” 

“Takemi? Should I refuse to help Jin after all that he’s done, what do you think Takemi will say? Besides,” Masako said, softening further, “I wouldn’t be able to face Nahoko in the afterlife if I abandoned her son to his fate.” 

“Why would that matter? You’d be past regrets at that point,” Mai said, sounding subdued. 

“I won’t be leaving Clan Adachi defenceless. Nor have our scouts indicated that there are any other immediate threats in Ariake.”

“I’m not that worried about Ariake. I’m worried about _you_.” 

Masako laughed lovingly. “I’m the incarnation of a God, as you’re so fond of telling me.”

“That’s… no longer as funny as I once thought it was.” Mai stifled a sob. “I hate this.” 

“This isn’t only about obligations,” Masako said. “It’s also a matter of honour.”

“Honour? You weren’t born one of the samurai. You know that all their talk about honour is often just talk. They can chatter all day about duty and sacrifice, and think nothing about letting the people under their care die of hunger. Jin is one of the best people I’ve ever met, but if he’d followed his so-called samurai honour, he’d have obeyed his uncle at all times, and we’d all be dead.” 

“I didn’t say my honour was a samurai’s honour,” Masako said with a wry laugh. “I’ve lived far too long to let men dictate how I’m meant to live. My honour is mine to define, lived by my measure. My word is my bond, and I’ll use my sword to shield those I value. You, Takemi, our people. And Jin.” 

Mai exhaled shakily, even as Jin stole away as quietly as he could. The kitchen gave him a small pile of onigiri and some sake, which he carried back to the guest house, taking the long way around. As Jin arranged the pile near the flank of the house that overlooked the inner garden, Ryuzo draped himself over his back and grabbed one of the onigiri, taking a large bite. 

“Was that for you?” Jin asked, though he smiled and picked one for himself. 

“Too late,” Ryuzo said with his mouth full. He ate the rest of the onigiri in quick bites and scooped up another one before Jin even made it halfway through his. Jin didn’t mind. He ate slowly, thinking, until Ryuzo poked him in the cheek. “What?” Ryuzo asked. 

“Mm?” Jin looked up at Ryuzo inquiringly. 

“You’re very quiet. Got caught on the way to the kitchens, did you?” 

“No.” Jin looked back down at the pile of rice balls. “Just thinking.”

“Do share. Amuse me.” Ryuzo leaned his chin on the back of Jin’s head and ignored Jin’s attempts to shift him off. “What could be occupying the generous mind of the great Lord Sakai at this onigiri time of day?” 

“The matter of honour,” Jin said, eating another bite and chewing slowly before swallowing. “I never used to question how restrictive it was that our concept of honour is based on obedience. Rather than righteousness.” 

“That? Nothing surprising about that,” Ryuzo said, chomping through another onigiri in record time and scooping up a third. “Our world is militaristic, ruled by people who are very good at stabbing other people. Who think they’re all very important, and who love going to war and stabbing each other to prove how important they are. The only way someone could stop powerful clans from being embroiled in a constant civil war is to make them believe that the most important thing they could ever do is obey the man wearing the biggest, most important hat. Doesn’t always work, mind you.” 

Jin started laughing. “Ryuzo! I can’t believe you said that.” 

“You know it’s true. Besides, it’s going to backfire in everyone’s face sooner or later. If all you value is obedience, well. I’ve obeyed bad orders and done terrible things, but I’ve known and regretted what I’ve done. Obedient people who don’t think for themselves will do terrible things in the name of obedience, and they won’t even feel all that bad about it. They’d just be following orders. Worse, they might even be forgiven by history. Since it was just a matter of honour.” 

“General Liang said something about that. About how someday it might be Japan acting like the Mongols. Going to war, committing atrocities in other countries.” 

Ryuzo’s shiver shook through Jin’s back. “I can see how that might happen. People, hm?” 

“People,” Jin agreed, rueful. 

“Sounds like the general is weighing on your mind,” Ryuzo said. 

“Now and then.” 

“Should I be jealous?” Ryuzo asked, and laughed at the shocked look Jin shot him. As Jin growled and twisted around to shove Ryuzo on his back, Ryuzo yelped, “Hoi, don’t—I’m still holding food…!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given my family survived the Japanese Occupation in Singapore, it’s always been a bit strange for me writing stories about the fictional/cinematic concept of bushido in Ghost of Tsushima, given what that culture led to in reality. Never really got around to exploring it in my short fic, but long fics are where I like to ramble on a bit.


	15. Chapter 15

The kashindan around Masaru gasped among themselves as Jin self-consciously tugged open the heavy cloak to reveal the cleaned-up lamellar armour with its snarling dragon. “Looks good,” Masaru said, eyeing Jin critically, “but do you speak Chinese?” 

“I can read some of it, that’s all. I won’t be looking to hold long conversations with anyone,” Jin said, “nor am I going to walk through most of the encampment like this. I’ll try and get as far as I can by stealth.” 

“Pity,” Masaru said, looking thoughtful. “I’ve just had another idea… no matter.” 

“One where we all dress up and march into the enemy encampment?” Ryuzo asked, folding his arms behind Masaru. Ryuzo hadn’t been happy that Jin had insisted on going forward alone, but hadn’t been able to disagree further when Masaru had concurred. 

“It’d be a rather obvious ploy, don’t you think? Besides, I’m tired of costumes,” Masako said, eyeing Jin with amusement. “Better Jin than me. How’s the fit?”

“Not too bad,” Jin said. The armour sat differently over his shoulders than what Jin was used to, with different restrictions—he’d had to practice walking around and sparring in it after Masako’s staff had cleaned it up and refit it for his shoulders. 

“You’re sure that you’d still be able to sneak around in that thing?” Ryuzo asked, his tone casual, but his jaw tense. Still unhappy. 

“I’ll do my best,” Jin said, unwilling to back down. As Masaru had bluntly noted, two people walking around oddly were going to look even more out of place than one. If Jin ever got discovered in a quiet area, he could always pretend to be headed for the latrines. “Can you use any of the other things we found on the ship?” Jin asked. 

“I’m not sure what some of them are,” Masaru said, “but the hand cannons and the bombs will be useful. We’ve distributed it among the men.” 

“Hopefully we don’t blow ourselves up,” Ishikawa said, looking sour. He’d brought a disorganised group of the best archers in Hiyoshi along, many of them standing nervously in a cluster nearby. 

Masako stared at Jin. “Careful out there. Even with the diversion from us and from the _Koinobori_ , there’s still going to be an army between you and Castle Kaneda.”

“Just like before,” Jin said, as confidently as he could. Ryuzo shot him an uneasy look but said nothing as they finalised strategic discussions, though he followed Jin to the edge of the hidden camp. 

Once out of sight of their sentries, Ryuzo said, “You’re sure that you don’t want me along.” 

“I’m sure,” Jin said.

“Not because of some misguided attempt to protect me or because you think I’d get frightened off or whatever, hm?” 

“You heard Lord Masaru. This is the most efficient way forward.” 

Ryuzo exhaled. “If it wouldn’t jeopardise your mission, I would punch you in the face right now. You owe me, anyway.” 

“Claim it when I’m back. Along with everything else you wanted to do,” Jin said with a faint smile. Ryuzo didn’t laugh. He embraced Jin instead, holding him as tightly as their armour allowed, then let him go and walked back to the camp. Jin watched Ryuzo go until he was out of sight, then whistled for his horse.

#

General Fan’s army was beginning to starve. Jin recognised the signs. The lean look people got, the short tempers, the distracted way the guard rotations worked. Jin tried to keep out of sight or walk purposefully away whenever spotted. No common soldier was ever inclined to make trouble for themselves, especially a starving conscript. Jin circled the practice grounds, which weren’t being used. In the corner, a couple of despondent people sat in cages. Their clothes weren’t Japanese. Punishment for something, perhaps. Jin didn’t dare investigate more closely, moving on.

He reached the inner ring of the encampment when the alarm was raised, ducking hastily into an empty tent. Not a moment too soon—horses thundered past, heading for the gates. Jin peeked after them, but didn’t recognise their riders. Lord Masaru had produced a sketch from his scouts of what Fan Wenhu supposedly looked like. The armour the soldiers on the horses wore weren’t gold-tipped, nor did any of them have lion-headed lamellar pauldrons. Jin moved on, walking briskly through the open gate and ducking away behind a set of tents. One of the sentries on the watchtower spotted him, but as Jin stayed calm and pretended that he knew where he was going, they looked away. The prickling sense that Jin was being watched eased. 

The walls of Castle Kaneda loomed ahead past the tents: getting through the encampment had been the easy part. Jin hid behind a tent, studying the walls and closed gates. Distant shouts and the sounds of explosions indicated that the diversion was well underway, but Castle Kaneda stayed resolutely sealed. 

As Jin was considering sneaking out to the beach and trying to scale the cliff, the _Koinobori_ made her belated appearance known with an explosion far to the right, carving a way through the ships moored near the castle. She sliced through the wreckage, making a sharp turn that looked impossible on a sailing vessel. Jin flattened himself to the ground as the cannons roared, firing a broadside at the castle and the encampment. 

Shells whistled overhead as soldiers screamed and scattered. The barrage knifed a watchtower in two and shattered a roof, caving in the graceful tiled structure, punching a crater in the walls. A second barrage fractured stone, blasting a gash in the ancient walls before the _Koinobori_ turned her nose back toward the open sea, dodging cannon fire from slower ships. 

That worked.

In the thick smoke and the screams and panic, Jin sprinted toward the wall with other soldiers, helping haul away rubble from moaning victims trapped under the collapsed section of the wall. He ducked through as more people came to help, and no one called after him as he ran toward the collapsed watchtower, then slipped behind a set of archery racks. A cowering soldier straightened up with a yelp as Jin nearly walked right into him and gawked. Just as Jin was about to go for a killing strike, the soldier stammered something, lowered his gaze, clasped his hands in a low bow and rushed away.

Jin let out a slow breath, trying to get his heart rate under control. Praying that the _Koinobori_ had gotten out of range, Jin walked briskly through the outer courtyard, then climbed up a ladder to the walls, slipping down onto the steep ledge on the other side that overlooked the bridge to the main keep. He shivered. Here, Jin had once faced Khotun Khan as a desperate man in broken armour, full of bravado, until he’d been skewered and thrown off into the sea before his uncle’s eyes. Even now, looking back at the site of old failures, Jin wasn’t sure how he’d survived. 

The gate on the opposite side of the bridge was still closed. To walk across and hope the archers assumed he was one of them, or try to swing his way under and hope they didn’t notice him? As Jin was trying to decide, a now-familiar whistling sound shrilled overhead. He ducked instinctively, even as cannon fire blasted apart a watchtower and blackened the walls. The tower collapsed, tipping over in what felt like slow inevitability. It smashed down over the bridge, shattering the planking and support struts. Jin swore. He jumped, loosing his kaginawa under the bridge and grappling to one of the still-intact struts, using momentum to swing himself across while everyone was still staring at the wreckage. 

The grapple slipped. 

Jin yelped, grabbing at thin air. He huffed as he fell awkwardly against a support strut, the impact knocking the wind out of him and pulsing pain through his still-recovering wounds. He lay gasping against it, holding tight and praying that the _Koinobori_ had done enough. Gritting his teeth, Jin pulled himself up and began to climb, wincing at each step. Glad that he’d stayed firm and told Ryuzo not to come. 

Besides, this was one of the last places Jin wanted to see again with Ryuzo. The betrayal had seared the lantern pool into Jin’s memory: the duel, the disappointment, the hurt he’d felt. How was it possible to love someone so much and still be unable to forgive them? There was something wrong with Jin, maybe. The vengeful part of him, the oni that everyone feared. He clenched his teeth so tightly that his jaw ached. Jin scaled up to the walls, following the ledge until he could go no further. Someone had long sealed the breach in the wall he’d once used to get through. Hoping that no one would notice in the chaos, Jin hooked the grapple over the top of the wall and climbed. 

The spiked top did little against Jin’s heavy armour as he pulled himself over, careful of where he put his hands. As he set down quietly behind a building, Jin froze. Someone had lit up the lantern pool just the way it’d been. For one ugly moment, Jin expected to see Ryuzo seated by the edge of it again, a battered straw hat pulled over his handsome face. It passed. The person sitting on a chair beside the pool with their back to Jin wore gold-tipped lamellar armour. 

No lion pauldrons. As Jin began to edge away to the main keep, General Liang said, “You’re not nearly as quiet as you think.” 

Jin tensed up, even as Guiying set her drinking gourd down on the ground and got to her feet, turning. She blinked—the first sign of open shock that Jin had ever seen on her face. “Where did you get that armour?” Guiying asked sharply. 

“Found it in a hidden compartment on a ship,” Jin said, wary of Guiying’s harsh tone. Almost angry. “There was a dead man in the room, in brown clothes. Didn’t look like he needed it any longer.”

“Brown clothes? Likely a servant who tried to hide. Who then realised too late that he couldn't open the chamber from within. The armour wouldn’t have been his,” Guiying said, her face tight, then she let out a brittle, mirthless laugh. “Fate is such a strange thing. Perhaps serendipity is inevitable when a carp begins to rise.” 

“You know the owner of this armour?” Jin asked. 

“I should. My father had it made. For my son to grow into someday,” Guiying said with a bitter smile. 

“The four-toed dragon,” Jin said, looking at Guiying with renewed curiosity. 

“My husband was of generous birth. As my son then was in turn. Not that it did them any good at the end.” 

“I’ll return it to you,” Jin said, embarrassed by the rawness of Guiying’s pain. 

Some of her amusement returned. “What, would you strip down right now? No. There’s no longer any need. Keep it. My son won’t be growing into any sets of fine armour. When I jumped into the sea at Yamen with my husband, so did he. I watched my son drown as the Yuan forces fished me out. I begged them to save him too, if they were going to force me to live. They tried, but it was already too late. He was fifteen.”

“I’m sorry,” Jin said. 

Guiying tilted her head, studying Jin. “You’re a lot like him. Straightforward to a fault. Righteous and ruthless, the most dangerous combination in a man. He would’ve been a monster if he’d grown up. Just like you.” She glanced away at the main keep. “General Fan isn’t here. He’s just gone north with most of the Yuan Chinese to join the siege at Castle Shimura. Said that if I successfully held Castle Kaneda and retook the region, he’d make me his second wife.” Guiying laughed, a laugh full of jagged rage. “Strange what men so often think women want.” 

“So don’t,” Jin said. “Join me instead.” 

“What can you offer me, little carp?” Guiying asked. 

“Your life. The lives of your men.”

“I know what you people do to your prisoners of war. You kill them or turn them into slaves.” 

“If you join us now, you wouldn’t be prisoners but allies.” 

Guiying shook her head. “Even with only my soldiers, we outnumber you and your tiny number of allies. With the forces in Izuhara finally mine to command with no one to interfere, I could wipe you all out. Unlike the Generals you’ve defeated, I don’t fall for tricks. I could return to China covered in glory.”

“Yet you’re sitting here, talking to me, when you could be out there commanding your forces to rout ours. You were waiting for me,” Jin said. Guiying inclined her head. “That tells me that you want to give me a chance. Not for my sake but yours. You fought the Mongols for twenty years, only to watch your husband and son drown before your eyes. It’s vengeance that you want, isn’t it? Not glory, or a new marriage, or even your life.” 

“Ah, a rare thing,” Guiying said, smiling at him, a smile of teeth and simmering fury. “A man who understands women.” 

“Vengeance isn’t a difficult thing to understand,” Jin said. 

“Given what’s been done to you, could you swallow your own need for vengeance?” 

“To save Tsushima? Yes.” 

“Draw your sword,” Guiying said, beckoning.

“You’ve already seen me fight. Are we still enemies?” 

“I’ll think about it if you defeat me,” Guiying said, drawing her double-edged sword and shifting into a guard stance that Jin didn’t recognise. As Jin reluctantly drew his blade, the wind twisted between them, making the floating lanterns flicker, a number of them dying out. 

Guiying’s blade flickered around her as an unpredictable silver fish, a cradle that curled around her as a flourish as she swept closer, only to dart out at Jin’s face within striking range. Jin parried, only to realise it’d been a feint, Guiying deftly spinning her blade to cut open his sleeve. Jin backed out of range, inspecting the shallow gash. 

“Unusual,” Jin said. The soldiers on Komoda Beach hadn’t fought like this. According to Lord Masaru, the Song Chinese didn’t even favour swordsmanship—their armies relied on technology, bows, and crossbows. 

“Foot binding became popular among highborn women in the Imperial Court, but thankfully I wasn’t that highborn. My mother passed early, and my father, a renowned engineer, let me do whatever I wanted. As with many women before me in earlier dynasties, I learned how to dance with a sword. Soon, I became good enough that the Imperial Court sometimes requested performances. It’s how I caught the eye of the third son of a marquis.” Guiying’s blade spun in a tight arc in her hands, twisting out of sight behind her, then jumping for Jin’s flank as she pirouetted closer. He dodged, jabbing his blade through Guiying’s guard, but she twisted aside, the edge scouring harmlessly against her armour. 

Guiying’s sword flicked out again, angling away before Jin could parry, opening a gash against an unprotected part of his thigh. Jin backed off, wary. Usually, when he faced an opponent, he learned their patterns quickly, formulating a counterattack on the fly. General Liang’s patterns looked too strange: half of the graceful flourishes seemed to serve only an aesthetic purpose, only for her sword to jump out at him from its circling choreography when he least expected it to. 

“A dancer became a General,” Jin said as they fought. 

“A strategist became a General. Dancing has always just been something I did to pass the time,” Guiying said, as her blade spiked at Jin’s face out of the cradle of steel. He jerked back instead of parrying, then lunged and sliced at Guiying’s head with an overhead strike. As she spun away, Jin changed the angle of his feint and struck Guiying across the back with the flat of his blade. Guiying laughed. “Not bad. Even though you aren’t taking this very seriously.” 

“You’re not trying to kill me,” Jin said, with a nod to the side. “Or the men you’ve hidden over the rooftops would’ve shot me by now.” 

“General Kim told his men not to intervene during a duel. Why would my pride be any less than his?” 

“Because that’s not how you think,” Jin guessed, looking Guiying steadily in the eye. “You have nothing to prove. Besides, for all your talk about doing me a favour, you also need me. You suffered the most casualties during the initial invasion because you faced the stiffest resistance at Komoda Beach. As the most recent conscripts to the Yuan army, you’ve been treated the most poorly. Your people are starving, and you have few options left.” 

“I could do what I’m told,” Guiying said with an unreadable smile. “Sweep south. Take your farms.” 

“There’s nothing left to take. Many farmers are dead or scattered, their stores already stolen. Either we excise the parasites to the north, or we’ll all starve.” 

“Arakhan still plans to conquer the mainland.”

“Can he? General Kim is dead, and Jun-gi has gone.” 

“Many of the Goryeo soldiers went north with him in the first place, and he now has Yuan Chinese reinforcements. He has ships. Once they regroup at Port Izumi, they’ll head for Iki.”

“I stopped Khotun at Port Izumi once. I can do the same to his successor,” Jin said. 

“With luck.” 

Jin slowly lowered his sword. “My luck hasn’t failed me so far.” 

“So come. Take this as seriously as you would any other duel against a General.” 

“Very well.” Jin struck, in the lightning-quick three-step attack he’d learned long ago. He broke Guiying’s guard with the first two strikes, the second coming up against her throat.

Guiying froze, then laughed. She looked behind Jin, shaking her head very slightly. The prickling sense that Jin was about to be attacked from behind eased a little. “The Bane of Khans,” Guiying said. 

“As you say.” 

Guiying flicked her sword clean and slowly sheathed it. Jin backed away, doing the same. “I don’t intend to force my men to defend a land that isn’t theirs,” Guiying said, resting her palm on the hilt. “I’m going to give them a choice. To sail away, to head north to join Fan Wenhu, or to stay and entrust their lives to you and me. I’ll warn you—you might not like how many people will choose to leave.” 

“I might not like it, but they will be free to choose, and I’ll understand and respect their choices,” Jin said.

Guiying chuckled. “You’re a better man than your uncle would have me believe.” 

Jin stared at her. “What?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved the Mongol armour disguise in the first game, rofl. I wore it all the time riding around in Act 3, b/c I’d maxed out my Legend and cbf getting into road stops. Sorry, uncle. Speaking of which, did people really think I killed off Lord Shimura in Chapter 5, when the final duel was what made me catch feels for this game… ^^ 
> 
> Can Chinese sword dance actually translate in practice? Probably not, but it’s pretty to watch and I presume General Liang made the requisite amendments to stance etc. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z0lwnOZ3kXg


	16. Chapter 16

Fort Takeshiki was new—built over the last seven years, overlooking the sprawling farmstead. It’d been home to one of the Oda-affiliated clans coming in from the mainland, a clan that had abandoned the fort to go north on Lord Hideyoshi’s orders. Song Chinese soldiers stared at Jin with curiosity as he rode through the open gates in the palisade with General Liang beside him, staring not so much at his face but at the dragon on his armour. Jin began to wish he’d changed. 

“You look nervous,” Guiying said, glancing at him. 

“Part of me is convinced that this is a cruel trick,” Jin admitted.

Guiying sniffed. “I’m not that cruel.” They dismounted by the stables, handing off their horses.

“Why bother saving his life?” Jin asked. “At that time, you couldn’t know that the conquest of Tsushima would turn complicated.” 

Guiying gave Jin a look of amusement. “A swordsman approaches battle with a set of black and white choices. A strategist sees a skirmish as one game of many, with an infinite number of choices. They choose which game to advance, which game to set aside.” 

“Had I died on the beach, had General Arakhan razed the island, would you have killed my uncle?” 

“Who knows?” Guiying said, unfazed by Jin’s accusing stare. “Your uncle is a hard man to like. Besides, he still isn’t that well. The crossbow bolts that pierced his armour nearly killed him. If we’d left him to your primitive medicines and practices, he wouldn’t have survived.” 

“How did you keep this from Fan Wenhu?” 

“The same way I spoke to you twice without him getting wind of it,” Guiying said with a faint smirk. “That’s one thing that Chinese, Mongol, and Japanese men all have in common. All of you tend to underestimate women.” 

They walked through toward the inner courtyard. Guiying paused at the gate. “I should ask you to hand your weapons over. Having them might put the wrong ideas into your head.” 

“If you wish.” Jin stared evenly at Guiying. “You intend to keep my uncle as a hostage to my good behaviour.”

“I know what happened to the last person who tried something like that. No. To be honest, I intend to keep your uncle off the board because the games that I see with him as one of the key pieces tend to be hampered by his narrow thinking. I’m already going to be risking the lives of myself and my men by turning against the Mongols. I refuse to do that _and_ still have to obey the word of a mediocre man.” 

Jin winced. “Did you tell him that?” 

“No. It wouldn’t have been true at the time. Before our alliance, I saved him so that he could serve as a distant failsafe. The chance for me to negotiate a surrender on my terms, should such a thing somehow come to pass. Now that we are allies—”

“Lord Hideyoshi has named himself Jitō of the island. If Lord Shimura remains here, he won’t be much of a bargaining chip.” 

“I’ve thought about that,” Guiying said, as she gestured for soldiers to open the gate. “Lord Hideyoshi has a good chance of not surviving the siege before we reach him. That makes me less interested in changing my position on this matter for now. Also,” Guiying said with a sharp smile, “notice how neither Lord Masaru nor Lady Masako looked particularly enthused when you demanded that I release and reinstate Lord Shimura?” 

That had surprised Jin to see. “Lady Masako has always had her differences with my uncle.” 

“None more than you, I hear. Didn’t he once try to have you executed?” 

“On the shōgun’s orders.” 

Guiying shook her head but lengthened her stride, taking them up a steep slope with defensive embankments on either side. Beside the newly-built clan housing that served as the main keep, a man sat seiza under a tree, reading a book. Lord Shimura looked up sharply as Jin gasped. Incredulity crossed his face, then wariness, as he looked at Jin’s dragon armour, then at Guiying. He closed the book and got slowly to his feet as they walked over.

“Jin,” Lord Shimura said. The world tilted dizzyingly out of focus. Jin closed his eyes briefly, trying to reorient himself, half-convinced that if he reopened his eyes, he would be somewhere else. Lord Shimura frowned at Jin, then stiffened as Jin strode over and grasped his arms. He still felt frail under his clothes, but he was there.

“You live,” Jin whispered, so shaken that he could barely speak. “I can scarcely believe it.” 

Lord Shimura’s wariness softened. He pulled away gently, glancing at Guiying. “What is the meaning of this?” 

“I’ve decided to switch sides,” Guiying said. She chuckled at the suspicious stare that Lord Shimura levelled on her. “Or are you asking about that dragon armour? Your nephew found it on a ship he took over. Fits him well, doesn’t it?” 

Irritation flickered over Lord Shimura’s face. “Am I now free to leave?” 

“No,” Guiying said, “but I’ll let you two catch up in private. Lord Sakai, meet me outside when you’re done, but Lord Shimura will stay here.” She clasped her hands together in a polite bow and turned for the gate. 

“A difficult woman,” Lord Shimura said, glaring at her back. “I wouldn’t trust her.” 

“We need her men.” 

“Why would they fight for you? You heard her before—our lives mean nothing to them. Don’t fall for her tricks.” 

“The situation’s changed. I’m willing to trust her desire for vengeance,” Jin said. A surprising number of Song soldiers had opted to stay. The rest had boarded ships to sail home. None had chosen to head north to join the Yuan forces. “Her soldiers are loyal to her. That tells me that she’s good at what she does.” 

“She’ll stab you in the back once it suits her.” 

“What would be the point? General Liang could hold Izuhara now with the people she has. Either way, I’m willing to take the risk. Toyotama and Kamiagata need help, and Lord Hideyoshi is besieged at Castle Shimura.” 

Lord Shimura began to speak and swayed instead, as though growing dizzy. Alarmed, Jin caught him and helped him over to the clan housing, into the shade. Even the short walk seemed to tire Jin’s uncle. Seeing him so frail unsettled Jin all over again as he supported Lord Shimura over to the engawa, helped him with his sandals, then into the house and down over a cushion. The clan housing looked comfortable enough. An unfinished wooden board of Go sat between Lord Shimura’s cushion and another, black and white seeds littering its gridded surface. White looked like it was winning. 

“General Liang likes to challenge me to games of Go or shogi whenever she visits,” Lord Shimura said sourly. “I’d refuse to play, save that she’d feed me information about how the war is going if I take any of her pieces.” 

“You’re good at shogi,” Jin said. He’d never been able to defeat his uncle at that game. 

“She’s far better,” Lord Shimura grumbled. “At least with Go, I can capture enough seeds now and then to learn something useful. Even if I never win.” He looked Jin over again in distaste. “Gaudy piece of work, that armour.” 

“I found it by accident. General Liang’s father made it for her son. I offered to return it to her, but she told me not to bother. Her son drowned at Yamen.” 

“You should return it to her anyway,” Lord Shimura said, though his distaste smoothed away. “Something like that shouldn’t be yours to keep. Give her something to bury.” 

“I will.” Jin hadn’t been planning on keeping the set. “You sympathise.”

“Why shouldn’t I? I know what it’s like to lose a child.” Lord Shimura’s wife had died in childbirth before Jin had even been born—he’d lost wife and son both. “Lord Masaru lives?” 

“Yes. Lady Masako as well.” 

“Good.” Lord Shimura glowered at the board. “I have doubts about your new alliance with General Liang, but I concede that her hatred of the Mongols and their allies appears to be genuine. You do need her army to bolster yours. Humiliating as it might be to remain under house arrest as your guarantor.”

“Oji-ue, if you don’t wish to be here, I’ll—”

“We need her army more than I need my pride. I’d be wary if I were you, though. Charismatic and beautiful women like the General are easy to trust. Still, Lord Masaru strikes me as a wise man. I’d heed his counsel, and watch General Liang closely.” 

Beautiful? Jin stared at his uncle. He’d never known Lord Shimura to make comments about a woman’s appearance. It wasn’t as though such a thing would sway Jin. “I intend to. Further, if the General comes into this alliance out of good faith, should we succeed in driving off the Mongols, I hope that General Liang and her people would also be treated in good faith in return.” 

Lord Shimura glanced at him. “The Song Chinese will be able to leave if they like.” 

“Would they be able to return home after what they’ve done? They’ve already been given that choice.” 

“So you’d offer them refuge? Here? The Song Chinese were our allies, but they’re foreigners. The Shikken is unlikely to approve any resettlement by foreigners. Most of them don’t even speak our language.” 

“The Shikken has left us to our fate,” Jin said, rising to his feet. “I don’t intend to leave my allies to theirs. Particularly once we don’t need them anymore, and it becomes easier to abandon them than defend them in turn. How could _that_ be honourable?” 

Lord Shimura didn’t answer, staring at the board until Jin bowed and began to leave. “Jin,” Lord Shimura said as Jin put on his sandals. Jin looked up inquiringly, but Lord Shimura swept him with an unreadable stare that dropped to the tanto at Jin’s hip. Jin belatedly began to pull his uncle’s blade from his obi, but Lord Shimura made a dismissive gesture and looked away.

#

General Liang looked amused when Jin returned the dragon armour to her but didn’t make any comment. Jin left her discussing strategies with Lord Masaru and Lady Masako, choosing to head north with Ryuzo and the other Ghosts. He sent the Ghosts to search out shrines and locate survivors, riding with Ryuzo to Umugi Cove.

Ryuzo didn’t seem inclined to talk during most of the ride. Still annoyed with Jin, maybe. Jin wasn’t in the mood to try and cajole him. The scale of devastation that the Mongol advance had wrought on Toyotama was immense. Worse than what Khotun Khan had done to Kamiagata seven years ago. Rotting heads staked along roads, bodies left to rot in piles along the beach, or hung under branches, riddled with wounds and arrows. Flies swarmed in a thick blanket between the grass, gorging themselves on the feast. The stench permeated the air until it felt like it was seeping into Jin’s skin.

Numb, Jin stopped counting the bodies as they rode. How many survivors had made it to the shrines? Maybe there was no one left. For all his talk of not letting Tsushima become a second Western Xia, hadn’t Jin already failed? Tears burned in his eyes, muddying the road ahead. 

As they stopped for a cold lunch by the sea, Ryuzo said, “I heard the reports, but this is a nightmare.” He stared back uneasily at the grassy hill, where a large tree held bodies that swung slowly in the wind. Women and children, likely from the small fishing settlement that they’d passed. 

“It is.” Jin barely had any appetite. He forced himself to eat, hunching down. 

“Did it get this bad seven years ago?” 

“In Kamiagata? No.” Khotun Khan had razed the forest and a couple of villages to the ground. He'd made an example of anyone who’d tried to stay. As with Izuhara and Toyotama, however, Khotun hadn’t bothered chasing down survivors who’d chosen to flee. This? This looked different. People had fallen to rot in the fields. 

“Shit.” Ryuzo shivered, then shuffled closer, pressing against Jin’s flank. Jin leant into him gratefully, even as the haidate of their black Ghost armour scraped together at the hips. “How do you bear it? All that pressure from everyone thinking that you’d somehow make this right.” 

“There’s no making any of this right. Not now, not seven years ago. What I wanted was to stop it from happening further. To Iki and the mainland. It’d be the same now.” 

“You’re right.” Ryuzo didn’t say anything more until they finished their rest and called their horses back over. “Jin… are you all right?” 

“Me?” Jin asked, surprised. 

“You’ve been very quiet.” 

“ _You’ve_ been quiet.” 

“Well,” Ryuzo said, a little helplessly, “what with you abruptly finding out that your uncle wasn’t dead after all… what even was the point of that, anyway? Couldn’t she have just told you from the start?” 

“General Liang was waiting to see if it’d be worth keeping Lord Shimura alive.” 

Ryuzo grimaced. “Locked him in a cell?”

“No. He’s not allowed to leave the inner keep, though other than that, it looked like he was being treated well.”

“Must be hard. Having that over your head again.” 

“Strangely, no.” Jin didn’t feel the same burning anxiety he’d felt years back when Lord Shimura had been in Khotun Khan’s hands. He’d been sure then that Lord Shimura was being tortured to death. “My uncle isn’t being held to guarantee my goodwill. General Liang said that she just didn’t want him being reinstated as the leader of Tsushima’s defence because she felt he’d be mediocre.” 

Ryuzo let out a startled laugh. “Really?” 

“I’m not surprised that she isn’t willing to follow him. She doesn’t like him.”

“Your uncle doesn’t know how to handle powerful women. Yuna mentioned that he’d get into huge arguments with Lady Masako, and she’s his main ally on Tsushima.” 

“Lord Masaru seems fine,” Jin said. 

“That’s different. Clan Hōjō is in the position they are today largely because of a woman also named Masako,” Ryuzo said, chuckling. “Either way, I can’t say I disagree with General Liang. I’d rather follow you than your uncle.” 

Jin flushed with pleasure, even given the circumstances. “I thought you were still angry with me. Over wanting to go into Castle Kaneda alone.” 

“A little annoyed, maybe, but I saw your point. It’s easier for you to do some things alone. Doesn’t mean that I like it, but your divine run of luck is still holding up,” Ryuzo said as they mounted up and started along the beach. 

They reached Umugi Cove close to the evening. There hadn’t been much to see. Bloated bodies floated in the marsh, and the stench was overwhelming—Jin and Ryuzo covered their noses and mouths with cloth, and their horses snorted loudly and turned skittish as they rode over the raised walkways and paths.

“We’re too late,” Ryuzo said, above the roar of flies in the water. “Do you still want to check the Cove?”

“Just in case,” Jin said, though he wasn’t hopeful. 

Blood smeared the entrance to Umugi Cove, its structures levelled by fire. Blackened bodies still lay where they’d fallen under walls and debris. Jin dismounted, tying his skittish horse to a still-intact pole. Ryuzo followed closely behind him as they checked one structure after another, then circled the pile of burnt wood that had once been the large inn. As Jin walked around to the water’s edge and stared at the other floating bodies littering the marsh with dismay, he said, “I wonder if Lady Sanjo escaped.” 

“Who?” Ryuzo asked, looking nervously at the wreck. 

“The leader of Umugi Cove. She was a pirate or smuggler of some sort, I think.” 

“Doesn’t look like anyone survived—” Ryuzo grabbed Jin’s arm with a yelp of fear. 

In the water, one of the bodies of the dead rose to its feet. Then another, cresting up through the reeds, and a third, pushing past debris, blackened arms swinging forward. Jin’s hand flew to the hilt of his sword with a cry, only for the first corpse to say in a familiar voice, “Wah, Lord Sakai! You’re alive? Of course, you’re alive. The Gods must love you very much.” 

“…Kenji?” Jin said, incredulous, squinting at the ‘corpse’. “What… but… you…” 

“Oh, haha, this?” Kenji plucked at his sodden, ragged clothes, his round face barely visible under the grime. “Hai, Lord Sakai, you know, the Mongols this time, are just? Not even interested in doing business? It’s very depressing for an honest sake seller like myself. But then again, once they kill everyone they sort of leave the area alone so, we realised that if we just fall over and pretend to be dead, they don’t check the bodies and we can wait until they’re gone…?” 

Ryuzo started to laugh. Jin took a slow breath, trying to calm down his heart rate. “I’m glad to see that you’re well. What are you doing here?” 

“Oh, well, we didn’t have that much time to evacuate, so there are still things here that we’re moving. We do it in turns.” Kenji and the others forged toward the shore.

“We met a monk in the Golden Temple who said he’d reached it using Umugi Cove’s boats. It made me hope that I’d find this place still intact,” Jin said. 

“We still have the boats,” Kenji said, with a vague gesture. “We just moved elsewhere. You’ll see.” 

“What about Lady Sanjo and the others?” Jin asked. 

“They’re mostly fine. The only people who um, tragically passed away were the people who didn’t want to leave. Thought they’d be safe here and the Mongols wouldn’t bother coming this far out into the marsh.” Kenji shook his head, spraying dank marsh water everywhere. “It’s unfortunate. Oh! What about you? Yuna? Lady Masako? That grumpy archer… Ishikawa-sensei? And your uncle?” 

“They’re doing well. I’ve retaken Castle Kaneda. You, Lady Sanjo and everyone can head south into Izuhara if you wish. Might be safer,” Jin said. 

“Wah,” Kenji said, laughing. “Truly, you are beloved by the Gods. Saving Tsushima by yourself again.” 

“I’ve always had a lot of help. We’ll help you shift supplies,” Jin said, with a glance at Ryuzo. “I’d like to meet Lady Sanjo again. I have a proposal for her.”

Kenji gawked at Jin. “Haah? I never knew? I mean, I see why, but I think she’s at least ten years older than you. Do you have a thing for older women?”

Jin pinched the bridge of his nose. “ _Not_ that kind of proposal.”


	17. Chapter 17

“No,” Ryuzo said, staring as Kenji led them to a looming shape moored offshore, its high flanks hemmed in with sleek, small boats. “How did a pack of smugglers capture one of those?” The dragon figurehead of the Geobukseon glared down at Ryuzo and Jin through the mist. 

“I don’t know? I wasn’t part of the boarding group. I supervised, though! From the shore,” Kenji said with an ingratiating smile. Jin stifled a laugh. Ryuzo still couldn’t believe that Jin was friends with someone like Kenji, a man who exuded unreliability as a near-palpable odour. Kenji scurried over to the shore and whistled three times. A small boat detached itself from the tail of the Geobukseon, then another. Gasps rose from the smugglers on board as they looked at Jin and Ryuzo. 

“An old friend of Lady Sanjo, here to see her,” Kenji said, with a nod at Jin. 

“The Ghost?” said one of the smugglers, gawking. “Damn! Maybe our luck’s going to change.” 

Jin said nothing as he climbed aboard. If anything, he seemed embarrassed by the attention. Only Jin. Ryuzo couldn’t help but nudge him playfully as they drew closer to the ship. “Wah, you’re more famous than I thought, Lord Ghost,” Ryuzo said with a grin. 

“I’ve been through these parts before,” Jin said, though he looked even more uncomfortable when they got to the ship, and the sentry yelped and recognised him. On the walk into the bowels of the ship, anyone they passed either greeted Jin with a respectful “Lord Ghost” or “Lord Sakai”. Ryuzo snickered as Kenji led them up to an upper deck, squeezing past the people packed into the hold. The warship held families, even, dead-eyed people with their meagre belongings piled up behind them, who exclaimed and lit up when they saw Jin. 

“Stop that,” Jin hissed at Ryuzo as they squeezed past bundles of personal belongings, whispers following in their wake that turned into excited chatter. 

“Stop what? Lord Sakai,” Ryuzo said, grinning as Jin elbowed him in the ribs, only to trip and fall against the hull in shock as someone said, “ _Ryuzo?_ ” 

Ryuzo turned. “Daiki?”

A tall man in a dark grey kimono and hakama stepped out behind some bundles, a katana thrust through his obi. The ex-Straw Hat had aged a little over the years, though good-naturedness aged well—his face had grown more handsome, laugh lines edged over his eyes. “Wah! It _is_ you,” Daiki said, laughing as he strode over and pulled Ryuzo into a bear hug. 

Overwhelmed, Ryuzo could only stare, then he laughed, joyous and loud, hugging Daiki back. A weight he’d never thought he’d lose shifted off his shoulders. Beside Ryuzo, Jin stiffened, his face growing tight. Daiki didn’t notice. “What are you doing back here? I thought you left for the mainland. Do you just love punishment?” Daiki asked.

“I’m cursed, that’s what I am,” Ryuzo said, chuckling and clapping Daiki on the back. “Maa, I didn’t think any of you made it. I’m shocked. And of everyone who could’ve lived, it’s you who survived?” 

“Whatever,” Daiki said, playfully shoving Ryuzo. He blinked as he noticed Jin, his humour fading as he grew a little pale. “Isn’t that the…?”

“Ghost, yes,” Ryuzo said, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “Things are a little different. This time around.”

“I’d say. Did you see what the Mongols did to Toyotama this time?” Daiki shook his head slowly. “We barely made it out of Umugi Cove as it is. Shit. Hey, Isao and the rest should still be around. We should catch up while the Lord Ghost goes to talk to Lady Sanjo. That’s why you’re here, aren’t you?” Daiki asked Jin.

Jin nodded slowly. “Good idea,” Ryuzo said, waving Jin off. “Find me later, all right?” 

“Ryuzo,” Jin said, then he looked away, hands clenching. “Fine.” He stalked away through the ship.

“Huh,” Daiki said, watching Jin go. “Don’t tell me he’s still angry at us. It’s been seven years, and he killed most of the family.” 

“He’s not; he’s just got a lot on his mind.” Ryuzo let out a shaky breath. “Damn. I’m so sorry. About seven years ago, all of it.”

“Don’t be. You did what you thought right. Besides, Isao and I knew it wasn’t going to last. That’s why we kept hanging around Umugi Cove, doing odd jobs for Lady Sanjo. She let us stay on after you disappeared. Glad you got out when you did, though I’m shocked that you came back,” Daiki said. 

“Long story,” Ryuzo said as he followed Daiki through what would’ve been the ship’s armament deck. Personal belongings and supplies stacked up against the cannons, which served as dividers into what turned out to be family nooks. 

A little girl rushed over at Daiki past a pile of folded robes, throwing herself against his legs. “Chichi-ue!” she squeaked.

“Really?” Ryuzo said, laughing as Daiki bent and scooped her up. “The resident heartbreaker got married?”

“Shut up,” Daiki growled, swinging the little girl up in the air, then cuddling her against him. “Kaoru, this is your uncle Ryuzo, a troublemaker beyond compare.” 

“Oji-ue,” Kaoru said, looking curiously at Ryuzo. 

Ryuzo made a show of shuddering in horror. “Wah, don’t call me that. Makes me feel old. What about ‘ani-ue’?” 

“Don’t be disgusting,” Daiki said, laughing. “You’re an old man now, like the rest of us. How can an old man ask a little girl to call him ‘ani-ue’? Do you want me to kick you off the side of this ship?” 

“I’m not that old,” Ryuzo protested, even as a pretty woman in a green kimono peered up from where she was sewing something, looking at the two of them with curiosity. 

“A friend of yours?” she asked Daiki. 

“Ryuzo, this is Hana, my wife. Hana, this is Ryuzo. I’ve told you about him.”

“Good stories, I hope,” Ryuzo said. 

“About the hundreds of times you nearly got my husband killed in his youth? Sure,” Hana said, though she smiled a little mischievously. 

“Slander, it’s all slander,” Ryuzo told her and yelped as someone clapped their hands over his eyes from behind. He elbowed whoever it was hard in the ribs, making them squawk. 

Kaoru giggled as Isao made a show of rubbing his flank, glaring at Ryuzo. “Well, that hasn’t changed. You’re still no fun,” Isao said, then laughed and pulled Ryuzo into a hug. Still rail-thin, with the same uneven moustache—Isao didn’t look like he’d aged.

“Don’t tell me you’re married as well,” Ryuzo said, slapping Isao on the arm. 

“Guilty as charged, though my wife isn’t here—she’s out fishing. How are you? I’m guessing things are complicated, given you’re wearing something that looks very familiar,” Isao said, eyeing Ryuzo’s not!Ghost armour critically. 

“Very long story,” Ryuzo said. Hana insisted on making some tea, and they sat on bundles and against cannon, drinking and laughing until Jin showed back up. One moment he wasn’t there, then he was, startling Isao into jerking up with a stifled yell, reaching for his blade. Ryuzo grabbed his arm to still him, looking over as casually as he could to Jin and asking, “Done already?” 

Jin nodded. His flat expression softened as he noticed Kaoru peeking curiously up at him from beside Ryuzo, where she’d been busy playing with the knots over Ryuzo’s haidate. “Lady Sanjo wants a favour,” Jin said. He began to say more, hesitated as he looked at the too-curious watching families, and motioned for Ryuzo to follow. With a little reluctance, Ryuzo patted Kaoru on the head and followed Jin back through the ship. 

“The Straw Hats who survived,” Jin guessed, lowering his voice. 

“What about it?” Ryuzo asked warily. 

“Nothing,” Jin spoke slowly, choosing his words. “Cute little girl.” 

“Daiki’s daughter.” 

“Ah, I see.” Something hard in Jin’s face eased a little, and he looked away. “Lady Sanjo has enough supplies to feed everyone in here for three more days. A week, if she stretches it. She knows the location of supply caches, but they’re fortified.” 

“I’m definitely cursed to repeat events from seven years ago,” Ryuzo said, rubbing his temple. “My penance. Well? Where do we start?” 

“I told her to forget it and sail south, but she refused. Said she didn’t want to risk it yet. Besides, they don’t want to abandon Umugi. I told her that this isn’t a viable long-term plan to feed her people, that staying here would only be risking their lives, but she said she knows. Either way, it’d serve a dual purpose. If we can disrupt the enemy supply lines, it’ll damage the enemy’s morale.” 

“She _should_ sail south,” Ryuzo said, with an uneasy look at the packed ship around them. “This packed ship is a disaster waiting to happen. Though, would they know how to sail this thing?” 

“Lady Sanjo said they've worked it out. We’ll do one supply run for her, but after that, we need to get word to the _Koinobori_. Maybe Lady Sanjo will be willing to sail south if she has an armed escort. Besides, once we unload her people out in Izuhara, we could repeat the process,” Jin said. 

Ryuzo nodded. “Rescue the other survivors around Toyotama and beyond, funnel them south. Good idea. Your friend Norio and the others can’t be all that comfortable living on the shrines.”

“Hoi, what’s this we hear about supply lines?” Daiki asked, coming up behind Ryuzo and curling his arm over Ryuzo’s shoulders.

“Are you thinking of going off to have some fun without us?” Isao asked behind Daiki.

Ryuzo slapped Daiki on the stomach, making him huff. “What’s that I feel? A paunch? Must be from a wife’s good cooking. Retired ronin should stick to being retired.” 

“Who says I’m retired? How do you think they captured this big boat here?” Daiki asked with a snort. 

True. “Who else ended up taking refuge in Umugi Cove?” Ryuzo asked.

“Fewer now than before. Speaking of which, did you know that seven years back, Enzo went completely off the bend and started running a trafficking ring out of Umugi Cove? We were going to teach him a lesson, but someone beat us to it.” Daiki looked at Jin. “You, I’m guessing.” 

Jin glanced uneasily at Ryuzo, but Ryuzo said, astonished, “He what?” 

“Taking money from merchants, telling them he could get them to the mainland, then murdering them once he got paid on the beach? Yes. Him,” Isao said, his eyes hard. “Only heard wind of it because my cousin asked me why I didn’t tell her that the Straw Hats were running a smuggling ring. She nearly gave him all her savings. Good riddance.” 

“Good riddance also to Kojiro and his gang. Kidnapping people, hoping to get the Ghost’s attention,” Daiki said, shaking his head. “If you ask me, some of us didn’t just deserve to die; they deserve to get the shit kicked out of them all over again once we see them in the underworld.” 

“Well,” Ryuzo said, looking away, “it’s not as though I didn’t get up to fucked up shit too. You saw it. Maybe that’s why everyone else thought it’d be fine. The rot starts from the top and all that.” 

Daiki glanced at Isao, who said, “I didn’t think you were capable of that. All of it. Guess I didn’t want to think you could be.”

“Either way,” Daiki said, “we’re going to help. If we round up all the boys, that will give you about ten of us. It’d be twelve, but Shinji ate something yesterday that he shouldn’t, and Kazuya’s recovering from being stabbed trying to take over this ship.” 

“Seriously, don’t bother,” Ryuzo said, growing uncomfortable as he pulled away from Daiki. “I don’t want any more of your deaths on my conscience. I’m not your leader anymore.”

“That’s right. You’re not. It’s why we’re going to do this whether you like it or not.” Daiki glanced at Jin. “That all right with you? Lord Ghost.” 

“Jin,” Ryuzo said. 

“I can’t stop people from doing what they please,” Jin said, patting Ryuzo on the arm. “They’re your family. Convince them if you can. I’ll wait below.”

#

They faced stiff resistance at the supply outpost, but with Jin on their side, it didn’t matter. As the Straw Hat survivors began loading the supplies onto the smuggler boats on the river close by, Daiki glanced over at where Jin was helping to shift a chest onto a boat with Akira. “That man isn’t real,” Daiki said, then yelped as Ryuzo pinched him hard on the arm. Jin looked over, then back at the boat.

“What was that for?” Daiki hissed.

“You’re not dreaming. It’s all real,” Ryuzo said, tying the arrows from a rack into a thick bundle. 

“You…! I mean. I’ve heard all the stories. Never faced him personally—I’d probably be dead if I did. The way he just walked right through the front gates and challenged everyone to a fight, then cut down all those people like he was swatting flies?” Daiki shivered. “Damn. Seven years ago, did we really think we could kill him?”

“Felt like a good idea at the time,” Ryuzo said, guilty all over again. It’d been good knowing that he hadn’t managed to get everyone killed, but at the same time, seeing the painfully small number of survivors hurt. Not everyone had been as happy to see him as Daiki and Isao, either—with good reason. Takaya and Akira refused to talk to him, and Futoshi avoided even looking at both Ryuzo and Jin. 

Daiki slapped Ryuzo on the back. “Well, you did what you thought you had to, and the rest of us thought it was a good idea too. Those of us who didn’t split off, remember? Became bandits. Or whatever Kojiro and his gang were.” 

“Have you seriously forgiven me, or are you just trying to make me feel better?” 

“Forgiven?” Daiki laughed. “I never thought there was anything to forgive. Wasn’t like you chose what you did for personal gain. Besides, we were mercenaries in a buyer’s market where the only buyer was the Khan.” 

“Takaya and the others are still pissed,” Ryuzo said. 

“Fuck them,” Daiki said, blunt as ever. “Seven years ago, we all got up to shit that none of us should be proud of. That’s what we signed up for when we chose to become ronin. It’s not even the first time the Straw Hats made a bad bet on an employer. Half of us died on Komoda Beach along with the samurai, remember? Wasn’t even your call.” 

“Hard to forget,” Ryuzo said. He remained reflective as they finished packing up the outpost, returning to the ship. Isao volunteered to head south with smugglers on a fast boat to locate Lord Masaru or the _Koinobori_. As they stood on the shore and watched people load supplies onto the warship, Ryuzo said, “You could move on if you want.” 

“Move on?” Jin asked. 

“Don’t you need to look for your friend Norio? Or investigate the situation at Castle Shimura?” 

Jin looked oddly at Ryuzo. “You don’t want me here?” 

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re wasting your time. I’m going to stay with these people until the _Koinobori_ gets here. Might head south with them too, make sure they get there.” 

“They’re still important to you.” 

“I owe them,” Ryuzo said. 

“Then I’ll stay. They’re part of Tsushima as well,” Jin said. “Besides—”

A sentry sprinted down towards the beach, pale with fear. “The Mongols! They’re on their way! Riders—”

Jin tensed. “How many?” 

“Too many!” The sentry started splashing for a boat. Gasps rippled through the people trying to load supplies into the warship, then cries of confusion and fear from within at the distant sound of a Mongol hunting horn. 

From the warship, Daiki started to get down onto a boat, but Ryuzo waved him back. “Get up onto the armaments and load up those cannon,” Ryuzo snapped. 

“How would I even know where to start?” Daiki demanded, looking anxiously at the tree line. “Better that Isao and I—”

“Figure it out! Jin and I will hold them off.” 

“You’re not our leader anymore,” Daiki shot back, though he scrambled into the ship with the other Straw Hat survivors at his heels. Beside Jin, Ryuzo straightened up, drawing his bow. 

“Sorry about this,” Ryuzo murmured. 

“Why?” Jin drew his own. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here.” 

Ryuzo didn’t have the time to answer. Mongol riders poured out of the trees on their swift, surefooted horses, howling a war cry as they charged the beach. Jin’s first arrow took a horse in the throat, the animal squealing as it fell, crushing its rider under its weight. Ryuzo shot a rider in the shoulder, the man wincing but staying on. Archers fired from the slots in the armoured belly of the ship, arrows stitching into the first rank of riders. Some went down in a flurry of kicking hooves and screams. Others rolled off their dying horses and kept coming, surging to their feet. Ryuzo sidestepped a charging horse, ducking and cutting out its legs as he drew his katana in a vicious arc. A thrown kunai from Jin killed a rider who charged at Ryuzo’s back; then Jin disappeared in a billowing cloud of smoke. 

A Mongol outrider on foot roared as he charged Ryuzo with a heavy shield. Ryuzo cursed—he hated fighting shieldmen—and backed off as the outrider swung heavily at him with a large sabre. A crossbow bolt from the ship took him through the helmet, and he collapsed onto his knees. As Ryuzo turned to face the next outrider, something knocked him off his feet, driving him into the sand. Ryuzo rolled, spitting gravel, just in time to bring up his katana to parry a spear thrust at his face. 

Burning arrows arced overhead. Some fizzled harmlessly into the water, others onto the small boats, setting them alight. “No!” Ryuzo yelled as others embedded themselves in the ship’s flank. A few sputtered out, but others kept burning. A woman shouted something from within the ship, her command echoed by different voices. Basins of bilge water tipped out of slots, dousing the arrows. 

They couldn’t keep this up. Not with the outriders starting to get past, wading into the sea. Helpless to stop them, Ryuzo killed the spearman he was locked in battle with, snarling as he parried a blow at his flank, trying to get free. Jin was further up the beach, trying to do the same, locked in combat with several spearmen who were driving him back to the tree line. 

The cannons spoke. Ryuzo yelped, shaken off his feet and onto his face as explosions bucked blasts of seawater and sand sky-high. Men screamed as they were torn apart, turning the water and beach bloody. Rolling onto a knee, Ryuzo drew his bow and shot an outrider who made it to a boat in the back. Another made it to the ship, climbing onto the deck, only to yelp and fall into the water as a thrown bucket hit him in the face. As he tried to paddle back up, one of the smugglers rushed out, stabbing at him with a spear. An arrow fired from the Mongol ranks caught the smuggler in the chest, toppling him into the sea. 

Another round of cannon fire. The Mongols faltered, starting to back away from the beach—just as Jin reached his preternatural killing momentum, carving a bloody path through their ranks. It grew too much for the outriders. Some fled for the woods, screaming. Others shakily tried to face Jin and died, cut down before they could blink. Ryuzo just tried to stay alive, ears ringing. When it was over, he sank onto the sand, taking in grateful lungfuls of air. 

Jin rushed over to him, anxious. “Ryuzo! Are you all right?” 

“I can’t believe we just did that,” Ryuzo said, and started to laugh as the warship behind them broke into cheers.


	18. Chapter 18

General Liang’s soldiers paused in the middle of shoring up structural damage to Kushi Temple as Jin rode past, their stares a mix of awe and unease. Dried blood stains and the large pit of bodies outside told Jin what had happened to anyone who'd tried to hide here. Jin averted his eyes from the stains and the worst of the damage to the pagodas. Where the lush temple had once graced Toyotama with its elegant gardens and pools, military tents now sat pitched between broken stone lanterns and at the feet of statues, crowded under sloped pagoda roofs. 

Jin dismounted close to the main pagoda, where Lord Masaru was having some sort of measured argument with General Liang. Masako was nowhere to be seen. Standing respectfully and awkwardly to one side, Norio perked up as he saw Jin approach. “Lord Sakai! It’s good to see you,” Norio said. 

“I wish the circumstances were better,” Jin said, striding over. “What about the other Cedar Temple monks? And the refugees?”

“Staying on the shrines for now. I believe you have a warship picking up people who want to head south,” Norio said. 

“It’s on its way to Izuhara now with its first passengers. From Umugi Cove,” Jin said. He hadn’t wanted to leave Ryuzo to it after the attack on the beach, but he’d reluctantly conceded the need to head back inland and check on Masaru and the others. 

“Waste of a warship,” Guiying said by the map. 

“Saving people isn’t a waste,” Jin told her.

“Waste of my family’s warship,” Guiying corrected, if with a sharp smile. “Heard you renamed her at that.” 

“I could name it back,” Jin said, belatedly embarrassed by the presumption. Of course the ship had been Guiying’s. After all, her son’s armour had been found aboard it. 

“No. I like the new name. Suits her.” Guiying gestured at the map. “Now come here and tell this stubborn man that his love of unnecessarily elaborate strategies will get us all killed.” 

Jin walked over, looking at the dense mass of tokens on the map. “What’s the situation at Castle Shimura right now?” Jin asked.

“According to the ronin who made it south to me, the Umugi smugglers have been keeping a close watch on the region,” Masaru said, “and we’ve corroborated it with the ‘Ghost’ scouts’ findings. Clan Oda still holds Castle Shimura, besieged from all directions. General Fan Wenhu holds Fort Koyasan and Fort Kaminodake. While the forces to the north are a mix of Yuan, Goryeo, and Mongol forces, General Arakhan hasn’t been seen for a while.” 

“You think he might have sailed off to Iki and beyond?” Jin asked.

“General Liang said that it was possible but unlikely,” Masaru said. 

“He isn’t a man who’d leave a job half-finished,” Guiying said, looking solemn. “I’d be more worried about that if I were you.” 

“What was your plan?” Jin asked Masaru. 

“Castle Shimura sits on a unique position on Kubara Falls. If we were to divert rivers from upstream, we could flood the besieging army below,” Masaru said. 

Guiying threw up her hands. “Which would involve getting north past the blockade, going around Mongol patrols, working on the rivers, coordinating with strike teams from the south, _and_ possibly washing us and the castle away with it.”

“With you and your soldiers, who wear similar armour to the Yuan forces and speak Chinese, moving north wouldn’t be so difficult,” Masaru said. 

“I agree with General Liang,” Jin said as Guiying glowered at Masaru. “It’s too much of a risk, with too many moving parts.” 

“Thank you. Finally, someone with some common sense,” Guiying said, folding her arms and glaring at Masaru. “I’ve been at war for most of my life. I didn’t spend the last seven years studying how to fight the Mongols as you did. I spent most of it _actually_ fighting them. Grand strategies, in my experience, only work on paper. They don’t tend to survive direct contact with the enemy.” 

“I bow to your greater experience,” Masaru said, untroubled, “but that leaves us without a working strategy. We don’t have the numbers to meet General Fan on the battlefield head-on.” 

“We need Fort Koyasan,” Jin said, studying the map. “From there we can hope to pin General Fan’s forces between ours and Clan Oda’s.” 

“A monster sits in Fort Koyasan,” Guiying said, pursing her lips. “We have enough men to create a wedge that could break through the encirclement and give you time to get in, but I doubt it’d help.” 

“What monster?” Jin asked. 

“Arakhan’s beastmaster, Naranbaatar. He has this preternatural understanding with the eagles and dogs under his command. That’s the only way I can explain it. Besides that, he’s a giant of a man with the strength to match, and he doesn’t seem to feel pain.” Guiying shuddered. “He wasn’t at Yamen, but I’ve faced him on a battlefield before. Seen him tear people apart with his bare hands. Didn’t even flinch from hand cannons.” 

“I’ve slain my share of monsters,” Jin said, looking between Fort Koyasan and Castle Shimura. “Get me to Fort Koyasan, and I’ll slay one more.” 

He stared Guiying evenly in the eyes, and at the end, she was the one who laughed and looked away. “Perhaps you can, at that. What can a 妖怪 do against one of the 龙? Though. Have you reached the Gate?” 

“We’ll see,” Jin said.

#

Ryuzo caught up with Jin as he surveyed the ruins of Kishibe village, at the foot of Mount Omi. Here too, the Mongol invading force had been thorough. They’d landed at Musashi Coast and pushed upstream, razing everything in their path. A forest of spikes stood where the fishing village had been, each one bearing a rotting corpse.

“Jin,” Ryuzo said as he drew rein beside Jin, then looked over at the village and shuddered. “Shit.” 

“Omi monastery and the village are gone as well,” Jin said, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. “Just like this.” 

“Hazy Cliff shrine?”

“The refugees there are fine, though they’ve decided not to risk descending until the _Koinobori_ comes for them,” Jin said. He’d cleared out the outpost at the Forest Edge camp and Yoshinaka Bay just in case, but he wasn’t sure how much difference it made. His crusade this time round felt endless, like he wasn’t even making a difference against the vast numbers against him.

“Probably a good idea,” Ryuzo said. He followed Jin as Jin turned his horse, trotting toward the narrow mountain access that would take them to Lord Shimura’s hidden hunting camp. “I hear you’re yet again going to assault a fort by yourself. Don’t you ever get tired of doing that? Maybe you should consider alternative strategies now and again.” 

Jin glanced at Ryuzo—the humour in Ryuzo’s tone didn’t touch his eyes. “Sometimes a small, sharp knife does the job where a hammer can’t.” 

“Your luck is going to run out eventually. That’s what I’m afraid of.” 

“If it does, it does,” Jin said, indifferent to the prospect of death now that he had faced it so often. 

“I liked Lord Masaru’s strategy,” Ryuzo said as they pushed through burnt thickets of bamboo. 

“Flooding the lowlands?” 

“Could work.” 

Jin shook his head, saying nothing as they eased into ravines he knew by heart. The land past Izuhara felt dormant. Asleep, almost—or unconscious. The birds were quiet, and no deer darted out in their path. The wind whistled through the flute of stone that the mountains had made, bringing only ash. Not for the first time, Jin wondered how Tsushima could rebuild. Assuming they drove back the invasion somehow. 

“Where are we going?” Ryuzo asked as they threaded through the old Shimura hunting grounds. 

“Turtle Rock Shrine.” The last stop on Jin’s list before returning to Kushi Temple. 

Ryuzo made an annoyed noise. “What’s wrong with you now? That look on your face—” 

Jin stared at Ryuzo, incredulous. “Didn’t you see the village?” 

“Well, yes, but that’s all of Toyotama—”

“I went to Omi Village first,” Jin said. Bile rose in his throat at the memory, even though Jin wished he could scrub it from his mind. “What I saw there…” He choked himself off, reining his horse to a sharp halt and dismounting, stumbling over to a bush to throw up again. Not that there’d been much to heave out this time. 

“Jin.” Ryuzo patted him on the back until Jin was done, then passed him the gourd of water from Jin’s belt. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

Jin wet his throat and wiped his mouth, embarrassed. “No. We should keep going.” He pushed past Ryuzo, only for Ryuzo to catch up to him by the horses and haul him over, pulling him into a gentle embrace. Ryuzo stroked the nape of his neck, murmuring soothing nonsense words. Jin tried to jerk back, then gave in as Ryuzo held on. Jin’s breaths shook into wet gasps, then into quiet sobs as he buried his face in Ryuzo’s collar and remembered the nightmare ruin in Omi village all over again. The mutilated dead. He wept until he felt exhausted, leaning heavily against Ryuzo until the sobs eased into hiccups, then silence. 

“Sorry,” Jin muttered. 

“What for?” Ryuzo sounded subdued. He kissed Jin’s cheek. “Better?” 

“Not really,” Jin said. Nothing was going to be better. At Omi Village, Jin had finally realised how profoundly he’d already lost. It’d been hubris to think he could have saved the island by himself. He’d wasted the last seven years, drifting. At least Lord Masaru and the others had spent it trying to prepare. “Let’s keep moving.” 

“Sure?” Ryuzo didn’t budge. 

“I just. Feel like such a failure.” 

Ryuzo made an incredulous noise. “What.” 

“The last seven years… I could have done something more to prepare.” 

“Like what? You weren’t a lord anymore. Besides, your uncle’s the one who should have spent it preparing. Lady Masako and Lord Masaru did, and it didn’t matter. The only person who could’ve maybe made a difference now is the Shikken.” 

“I don’t—”

“Why do you always feel like you have to bear everything, hm?” Ryuzo grabbed Jin’s shoulders, shaking him roughly. “Why does it always have to be you? Why _does_ it always end up being you? I can’t decide whether the Gods love you or hate you.” 

“Maybe both,” Jin said with a wan smile. 

“Could be that’s part of the problem—you insisting that everything has to be done by you. We’ve got an army of our own now. Strange weapons. A warship. But you _still_ want to do things by yourself.” 

“I don’t know anything about leading an army,” Jin muttered. Better that General Liang and Lord Masaru handled that part. They’d routed the forces holding Kushi Temple by themselves with few casualties. 

“I don’t mean that. I mean. Fine. Do it your way, just. Don’t feel like you have to. Or that other people aren’t here for you.” Ryuzo shook Jin again, then started for his horse. Jin hauled him back over for a clumsy kiss, until they fit together and it got better, slower, Jin clutching at Ryuzo’s cheeks. 

Jin felt better as they parted, the world growing clearer again as they breathed together. “Better?” Ryuzo asked again, stroking his cheek. He kissed Jin’s forehead as Jin nodded. “Right. Off to look at this shrine.”

#

Norio waited for them under the torii gates to Turtle Rock shrine, looking grim. He waved as they approached and dismounted, Jin looking up at the steep access to the shrine, then back to Norio. “What’s wrong?” Jin asked.

“A monk should’ve been here to greet me,” Norio said, waving at the stone steps. “I was about to head up and check on the survivors. To try and persuade them to head south, if only to Kushi Temple.” 

“We’ll head up with you,” Jin said, leading the way up the stairs. It didn’t take long for them to find their first body. A woman, crumpled past the bend of the first flight of stone stairs, her throat cut, eyes sightless. Jin pressed his fingers gently to her throat, then closed her eyes. “She’s been dead for a while,” Jin said. 

“ _No_.” Norio charged past Jin up the stairs. 

“I’ll follow him. Head back out and do a circuit. Check for survivors, or for the trail of whoever might have done this,” Jin told Ryuzo, who nodded and hurried back down the stairs. 

Jin caught up with Norio by the newly-repaired bridge to the opposite outcrop. More lay sprawled across it, face-down, arrows in their back. Killed while running. Norio gasped and sprinted on, his naginawa held tight and low. All they found were bodies, young and old. Scattered on the way up to the small shrine. The beheaded body of a monk knelt before it, his head left in the offering dish. Norio let out an inarticulate sound of grief and turned around, breathing hard. 

“Norio,” Jin said softly, even as he heard faint shouts from far below. Jin peered over the edge. A small war band of Mongols, exchanging fire with Ryuzo. 

Jin gasped. He charged back down the slope with Norio at his heels, trying to take shortcuts, sprinting past the bridge. He whistled his horse over once he got to the last flight of stairs, swinging onto the saddle and nudging it into a canter. 

Ryuzo had already killed two men by the time Jin caught up, and the war band tried to regroup as Jin bore down on them, charging the closest even as he fired an arrow at the archer, catching him in the throat. Leaping off his horse, Jin used his momentum to deliver a shattering overhead blow, cleaving down past the soldier’s neck. Norio thundered past, lopping off the head of a soldier with a heavy swing of his naginata. A kunai took care of the last man standing.

“No survivors?” Ryuzo asked, looking between them. "I couldn't find anything out here but the patrol."

“No. I’m worried about the other shrines now,” Jin said, turning to Norio. “They can’t afford to wait for the ships. We’ll have to escort them south to Kushi Temple, group by group.” 

“Cloud Ridge Shrine,” Norio said, flicking blood off his weapon. 

Jin nodded, whistling for his horse. As they rode to the southeast, Jin said, “Your monks… I didn’t see many of them at Kushi Temple.”

“Most of them passed at Komoda Beach. The survivors largely opted to stay with the survivors,” Norio said. He exhaled. “It didn’t make a difference at Turtle Rock.” 

“They would have tried.” 

“Trying seems to be all we can do.” Norio sounded tired. “I thought the Mongols might attack again. Kublai Khan is the warlord descendant of a legendary warlord, after all. I trained every day for seven years. My monks, too. Yet in the end, it didn’t matter.” 

“Feels that way,” Jin said. 

“I don’t know what my brother Enjo might have done differently,” Norio said, staring at the road ahead. “I tried to consider it now and then. Seek guidance from his spirit.” 

“Your brother Enjo… the guardian of Cedar Temple?” Ryuzo asked, impressed. “I’ve heard of him.” 

“He… didn’t survive the last invasion,” Norio said, even as Jin gave Ryuzo a warning glance.

“My condolences,” Ryuzo said. 

“Formulating evacuation plans to the shrines, caching supplies, reinforcing the temples, befriending the smugglers at Umugi cove, maintaining a consulting relationship with Castle Shimura… I did all that and more,” Norio said, still reflective. “It wasn’t enough.” 

“At least you did all that,” Jin said as they rode. “I wasted the years.”

“You? Not at all,” Norio said, looking at Jin with surprise. “You are exactly what you have to be.” 

“What’s that?” Jin asked, startled by Norio’s earnestness. 

“A weapon of last resort. The vengeance of the Gods.” Norio glanced back at the road. “The fact that you’re needed once again shows that the rest of us failed to do what we could. Now, all we can do is pray that you succeed in your given purpose.” 

“A weapon of last resort,” Jin repeated to himself. “My uncle called me an oni.”

“This world belongs to the oni,” Norio said. He gestured at the burnt forests, to the dead that still hung now and then from the boughs of trees. “Perhaps it takes one of the oni to fight the oni. Or that’s what I thought seven years ago when I tried to become one. Friend Jin… it is not good to be one of the oni. Or to try. Respectfully, I think Lord Shimura is wrong. You may have the strength of a monster, but you are not a monster.” 

“Lord Shimura is often wrong,” Ryuzo said, with a meaningful stare at Jin that Jin avoided. 

“What is the difference between a monster and a man who does monstrous things?” Jin asked. 

“The capacity for remorse,” Norio said without hesitation, “and the drive to change.” 

As they reached the towering cliffs marking the entrance to Cloud Ridge Shrine, Jin’s heart sank. Like Turtle Rock, it looked too quiet. He felt numb as they dismounted by the torii gates and began to head for the stairs, only for someone to gasp overhead on top of a large rock. A boy. He straightened up and darted away. “Oi! Norio-sama is here! Oi!” 

Other people peered out from hiding spots on the tall rocks, grinning with relief, holding crude bows and makeshift weapons. Norio glanced at Jin, who smiled and waved him forward. “Go and talk them down, and we’ll escort them south. Norio-sama.” 

Norio laughed a little in embarrassment, but headed up the stairs, waving as he went. Jin looked proudly after his friend, even as Ryuzo clapped Jin on the back. “A weapon of last resort, hm?” Ryuzo said. 

“If that’s what I have to be.” No use in having regrets now. Jin took in a slow breath, leaning into Ryuzo’s touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this story is steadily moving away from a Ghost of Tsushima Kurosawa aesthetic into a more Blade of Immortal Miike aesthetic haha. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Pc5ikveEjA 
> 
> Also, for people wondering why the Toyotama/Kamiagata parts of this fic are likely going to be a lot shorter, tbh well, IRL the Mongols did raze Tsushima to the ground the 2nd time, so. Not much to go on for those bits. In a game, it’d probably just be an endless series of base building / Koinobori side quests between this chapter and the next as you try and revitalise the area and rescue each shrine full of refugees.
> 
> Useful full maps for writing Ghost fics: https://guides4gamers.com/ghost-of-tsushima/map/toyotama/


	19. Chapter 19

“One moment,” General Liang said when soldiers showed Jin into her tent. He waited at the side as she spoke to three people before her desk in Chinese. Two men in lamellar armour and a cloaked person who, on closer inspection, was a woman. The same people who’d followed Guiying to General Jun-gi’s encampment. The woman glanced at Jin, but the other two ignored him until Guiying finished speaking. 

Guiying turned to Jin. “My trusted lieutenants,” she said, gesturing at each in turn. “Yu Yan.” The woman inclined her head. “Tang Zhen.” The silver-haired man bowed, clasping his hands. “Mu Qingzheng.” The hawk-nosed man with the square jaw nodded. “They speak some Japanese, and will serve as liaisons with your forces.” Yu Yan sniffed, saying something in Chinese that made Tang Zhen chuckle.

“Is there an issue?” Jin asked, looking between them. 

“The usual points of friction that occur when two armies that largely don’t even understand each other have to fight together. Your archers, for example, are led by a famous archer of yours. Ishikawa-sensei,” Guiying said.

“Yes,” Jin said, his heart sinking. “He is an irascible man, and often says what he thinks without thought of the consequences.”

Tang Zhen laughed again, shaking his head. “Great man,” he said, in heavily accented Japanese. “I like him.” 

“Tang Zhen is also a famous archer, at least in our side of the world,” Guiying said with a faint smile. “He and Ishikawa-sensei have a lot in common and get along very well. The archers, as I was going to say, are fine. However, your people have little concept of the importance of modern artillery, let alone an artillery battalion led by a woman.” Yu Yan chuckled and sketched a mocking bow. “And you samurai prize melee combat on foot instead of set-piece manoeuvres.”

“Shintaro stubborn,” Mu Qingzheng growled. “Masaru, a fox. Smile and talk and nothing happens.” 

“I’ll speak with Lord Masaru,” Jin said. 

“Don’t bother. Matters like this should be resolved by myself and Lord Masaru alone. Adding more people into the mix will just muddy the waters and lead to unnecessary divisions.” Guiying waved out her lieutenants. Once alone, she asked, “What do you need?” 

“Just wondering if you have any updates about my uncle’s health,” Jin said. 

“Ah, that.” Guiying gestured at a set of scrolls by her desk. “Help yourself.” 

Jin picked up one of the scrolls and opened it. He scanned the neat script and looked up in embarrassment. “I can’t read most of it.” He didn’t recognise medical terms. 

“Oh?” Guiying glanced at him. “Your uncle said that you could read Chinese. You studied Sun Tzu as a boy.” 

“He told you that?” Jin said, surprised. Lord Shimura hadn’t seemed inclined to tolerate Guiying’s presence, let alone discuss something so personal. 

“Many things,” Guiying said, chuckling. “Your favourite colour is yellow, I believe. Your favourite food is miso soup? You name all your horses. When you were a boy, once you struck him in the eye with a bokken.” As Jin stared at her in shock, Guiying said, “I played games of strategy with your uncle.” 

“So he said. If he could capture your pieces, you’d update him on the war.” 

“If I won, he’d tell me something about you.”

“Why me?” 

“I was curious about whether to trust the renowned Ghost of Tsushima. The man who killed the Khan and saved his people, only to be branded a traitor.” Guiying smiled. “Your uncle didn’t think that he was telling me anything important. He’d tell me stories about your childhood, mostly. Still, since it also isn’t in his nature to lie, he told me what I wanted to know, and not what he might have thought that I wanted to hear.”

“A grand game of strategy,” Jin said. One that his poor uncle hadn’t even noticed. “How would stories about my childhood be relevant?” 

“You’d be surprised. They tell me about the man you were groomed to become. The definition that our parents write into our lives becomes a part of us. Even if it plays out in ways that our parents don’t wish for.” 

“He isn’t my father.” 

“He is,” Guiying said, amused. “Why should a letter of approval from a man neither of you have ever met matter about something so personal? He is your father. If it’s much comfort, Lord Shimura knows that too. He loves you. It’s why he’s still mourning the man he thought he knew. Strange how life works out, doesn’t it? The man his son became is far more impressive than the sort of man he hoped for.” 

“You learned all that from stories about my childhood?” Jin asked, unsettled. 

“From the way he’d recount them, from the way he’d discuss you. Other signs. Men like Lord Shimura aren’t hard to read. He’s fine, by the way. Improving. The warm weather helps his appetite. The crossbow wounds have healed nicely, and there’s no further incidence of pus.” Guiying smoothed out the scroll and translated it for Jin line by line, her finger following the script.

“Thank you,” Jin said.

“It’s a small thing. Would you like to write him a letter?” 

“I… No. Not right now.” 

“As you wish. Anything else?” As Jin shook his head, Guiying said, “If possible, you should lure Naranbaatar out of Fort Koyasan. A well-placed mortar shell or two might take care of the problem.” 

“You think I can’t defeat him?” 

“I think this business of duels and single combat is risky and inefficient,” Guiying said and laughed at Jin’s expression.

“You pushed me to duel you,” Jin pointed out. 

“That was different. Besides, neither of us were fighting all that seriously—” Guiying paused as Yu Yan ducked into the tent, speaking rapidly in Chinese. Guiying stiffened with a sharp response that had Yu Yan retreat in a run. “Doesn’t matter now,” Guiying said, pushing away from her desk. “General Fan’s army is on the march.” 

“He’s made it past Castle Shimura?” Jin asked. Headed north?

“No. He’s coming here.”

#

“There are some weapons that my father never liked to make,” Guiying said as they gathered in the central pagoda with Lord Masaru. “He made them anyway in the end when we grew desperate. Still, we never got to use them. He set off to Yamen on our family’s warship but never made it there—he was captured on his way and killed himself after being unable to blow up the vessel.”

“He designed the devices in the chests,” Lord Masaru said. 

Guiying nodded grimly. “Reluctantly so. My father believed that an escalation in arms technology only leads to a corresponding arms race. That if you make a better bomb, the other side would make an even better bomb, and so on—until all that remains is a situation of mutually assured destruction.” 

“Such an escalation is inevitable,” Ishikawa said, “even if one man chooses to sit it out.” 

“Some weapons create lasting suffering for the land they're loosed upon. Like these.” Guiying pressed a hand to one of the heavy chests. “Land mines. Hidden bombs that activate when anyone steps on their pressure plates. If not removed after a war, their effects on innocent civilians can be monstrous. Or these.” Guiying touched another chest. “Similar to your smoke bombs, but more poisonous. Their effects linger on in their victims for life, even if they survive the blast. Or these, that create clouds that burn bared skin.” 

Jin glanced at Lord Masaru, who was frowning to himself. “Is Fan Wenhu aware of such devices?” 

“Some of them are already in general use in some form, like the land mines. The others—likely not. My father confided only in his chosen number of apprentices. All of them killed themselves when he did. Other than the one who was with me at Yamen, who I convinced to help me for a while longer.” Guiying nodded at Yu Yan, who bit her lip and looked away, fists clenched. 

“Weapons are made to be used,” Lady Masako said, arms folded tightly over her chest. “If we refuse to use them and fall to General Fan’s army, won’t he just use them in turn? Cold comfort, hanging on to our moral principles in the underworld.” 

“Or we could destroy them so that no one can use them,” Jin said. 

Masaru glanced at him. “Says a man who once poisoned a fort with wolfsbane.” 

“A man who saw what happened to Kamiagata after that,” Jin retorted. 

“General Fan can’t exactly start harvesting bombs from the forest,” Ryuzo said, scratching his jaw. “Speaking as one of the people who drank Jin’s wolfsbane at the time, I’d say we should just use the weapons on this army. Throw the rest into the sea afterwards, if it’s such a moral problem.” 

“…Not anything that might get out of control and hurt someone it isn’t meant to hurt,” Jin said, glancing at Yu Yan. 

“You’ve just described every weapon in the world known to man,” Guiying said.

“I’m not asking a man,” Jin said, and Yu Yan laughed, looking Jin in the eyes and nodding slowly.

#

Hidden in the rice fields close to the Kushi river, Ryuzo watched the sea of enemy banners seethe down between burned trees and tall grass. He couldn’t see any of the other people in his group, which was a good sign, but he couldn’t help wiping down his clammy hands over his pants. Hot afternoons didn’t make for good combinations with battle nerves.

Ryuzo’s jaw dropped. An oni strode into view behind the ranks of mixed cavalry, heavy infantry and archers. He towered over the tallest man, even the men on horseback, a giant in heavy armour burnished to a sheen. Eagles wheeled overhead, and dogs as big as ponies padded before him. The beastmaster, Naranbaatar. Riding beside him was a man in gold-tipped scale armour and lion pauldrons—Fan Wenhu, presumably. General Fan often turned to speak to the man to his left—a tall, powerfully built Mongol man in black armour and black furs, a white eagle perched on a shoulder. His head was shaved but for the top of his head, bound and split into black braids capped with silver clasps. Oddly, he looked unarmed. Was that General Arakhan? Why would a Mongol general be riding around without at least a bow? 

As they got close to the old paddock fence, Ryuzo crouched lower in the water, waiting for the signal. One of the eagles overhead shrieked. General Arakhan cocked his head and held up a palm. Fan Wenhu raised a horn to his mouth, blowing a long blast that stalled the advancing army in their tracks. 

Ryuzo swore under his breath even as the white eagle leapt into the air. It spun over the grass and went into a brief stoop before climbing back up into the sky. General Arakhan held out a hand, and a rider beside him presented him with a bow. Standing up in his saddle, Arakhan loosed an arrow that led a storm behind it from the Mongol archers in the enemy ranks, a killing rain that stitched past the paddock and over the start of the rice fields. General Arakhan tilted his head, even as his eagle returned to his shoulder. A scout rode forward at a signal, slowing as he got to the spot past the paddock. He dismounted, laughing as he lifted the limp, rotting wrist of a dead farmer. 

General Arakhan waved the army on. Another long blast echoed, and the heavy infantry and cavalry began to march. Ryuzo let out the long breath he held and began to count. As the army drew to the edge of the rice fields, an arrow shot out of the bamboo groves, taking out an eagle through the chest. The signal. Ryuzo gingerly took the strange spherical device from the pouch at his belt, twisting it as he’d been told, until there was a faint click. He buried it in the mud at his feet between the growing rice and drew his bow, standing up and notching an arrow. A warning blast from Arakhan’s army echoed through the ranks as Ryuzo and the other kashindan fired a sally of arrows at the cavalry before retreating, darting through the fields. Another arrow from the bamboo, another eagle, then a third. Ishikawa was formidable. 

The Mongol cavalry charged, the sure-footed horses thundering over the rice fields as their riders howled—only to scream as the spheres went off once the horses cantered close enough to send vibrations through their cores. The bombs spat deadly fragments in all directions, shredding horses and riders alike. Behind the farmhouse, Ryuzo glanced back at the Mongol army. Fan Wenhu had gone very still, but Arakhan laughed. He passed his bow to his attendant, who handed him a spear. Arakhan charged. 

Ryuzo stared at the General in disbelief. Ranging ahead of his men, with only an attendant? He wavered—a well-aimed arrow could take care of all their problems right now. One of the kashindan captains thought so too. Instead of withdrawing to the agreed point, he rose from the rice field, firing an arrow at Arakhan. The Mongol General whistled. His horse danced aside, even as Arakhan threw his spear. It lanced through the kashindan captain’s chest. 

The attendant caught up with Arakhan, passing him another spear from the bundle at his saddle even as a pair of kashindan spearmen rose from the rice. Arakhan killed one with another toss of his spear, then danced his horse around the second as the spearman thrust his weapon at where Arakhan had been. The horse lashed out, smashing a hoof into the spearman’s head, hard enough to dent the helmet. The spearman dropped, poleaxed. Arakhan threw back his head and laughed, even as the army behind him began again to advance. 

Ryuzo made it to the far end of the rice fields just as a series of sharp cracks rattled from the burned groves. Mongol riders fell off their horses, blood pumping from shattered chests. It didn’t look like it mattered—the dying were passed by more and more of the living. As the army made it to the upper tier of the rice fields, Ryuzo nearly made a run for the safety of the bamboo. He wasn’t so sure about this next stage of General Liang’s plan. 

Something burst overhead, sparkling down over the rice fields. More and more, white puffs that fed down over rice and soldiers alike. The water underfoot began to foam. A thick mist steamed upward, enveloping the world, turning it a milky grey. Ryuzo checked the cloth bandana over his mouth and darted forward, tanto held low. The first Mongol soldier he found died without a sound as he thrust the dagger into his throat. Shouts of alarm and clashes of steel rang through the rice fields. 

Ryuzo concentrated on counting under his breath as he killed, keeping an eye on the coloured sticks thrust into the water underfoot. He knifed another Mongol soldier, then a Goryeo spearman. More and more, until light began to filter through the mist. Time to leave. Retreating, following the sticks, Ryuzo emerged into the bamboo forest, running for the hills. He made out Shintaro further ahead, along with a mixed bag of kashindan and Song soldiers. Shouts and the sounds of clashing steel continued behind them.

Arakhan burst out of the mist, his attendant behind him, his mouth drawn into a wolfish snarl. He charged Ryuzo with an upraised spear and growled as Ryuzo hastily jerked behind a clump of bamboo, drawing his bow. No point trying to outrun an expert horseman. Ryuzo shot an arrow at Arakhan and the General whistled, his horse leaping aside. Ryuzo threw himself to his right as Arakhan tossed a spear at him, narrowly missing. Desperately rolling to his feet, Ryuzo yelped as Arakhan’s horse danced over, rearing to trample him underfoot. 

Shintaro tackled Arakhan off the horse. They went rolling into the grass, Arakhan snarling, Shintaro’s tanto glancing off a pauldron. The attendant stayed back, watching calmly even as Ryuzo scrambled over to help. Bare-handed, somehow Arakhan was holding his own, always narrowly dodging out of the way of Shintaro’s precise katana swings. Grinning, Arakhan’s hands shot out, grabbing Shintaro’s arm in two places and driving his knee into the joint, breaking it. Shintaro screamed, staggering back, holding his katana one-handed. Arakhan gestured, and the attendant tossed a spear that landed within arm’s reach. He plucked it from the grass even as Ryuzo jumped on Shintaro, shoving him to the ground as the spear whistled overhead. 

Arakhan clucked his tongue as Ryuzo pushed himself up, drawing his sword. “Ryuzo,” Shintaro gasped. “You’re no match for him— _run_.” 

“We’re the same rank. I don’t have to listen to you,” Ryuzo said, though his palms felt like they were sweating into the grip of his sword. 

Arakhan smiled as Ryuzo charged him, angling to thrust his katana at his throat. The Mongol General jerked aside, kicking Ryuzo in the back of his legs, sending him stumbling as Arakhan spun behind him and punched the side of his helm with a mighty swing of his mailed fist. It felt worse than being kicked by a horse. Ryuzo dropped, ears ringing, eyes watering, trying to struggle to his feet. A spear landed within arm’s reach as Ryuzo tried to get up over and over again and failed. Arakhan plucked it from the grass. 

Shintaro charged over with a roar. 

Ryuzo cried out as Arakhan turned and speared Shintaro through the chest. Somehow, Ryuzo barrelled to his feet, catching Arakhan against the waist and bowling them both back into the dirt. Through the ringing in his ears, Ryuzo could hear Arakhan laughing. The General wrenched free and kicked Ryuzo hard in the ribs, tumbling him into a bamboo cluster. Ryuzo coughed, blood bubbling in his mouth as Arakhan took another spear from his attendant, hefting it. As he raised his arm, Ryuzo bared his teeth. Strange. Imminent death wasn’t as frightening as he’d thought.

Naranbaatar charged out from the groves, howling, berserk with fury. Bleeding craters marked where his eyes had been, his legs and arms scoured with blood, swinging an oversized broadsword wildly as he bore down in their direction. Ryuzo could only stare. Arakhan turned calmly, calling out sharply in his language. When Naranbaatar didn’t seem to hear him, he exhaled and took aim. The spear pierced Naranbaatar through his forehead. The giant managed another two steps before crashing to his knees, jaws agape. Arakhan gestured and frowned as no attendant tossed any spears at his feet. He turned. Jin stood above the body of Arakhan’s attendant, eyes blazing with rage. 

Arakhan chuckled. He cracked his knuckles and began to advance on Jin, only to pause at the sound of a loud horn blast somewhere from the forest. Rolling his eyes, Arakhan whistled his horse over, hauling himself onto its back in a fluid motion. Jin threw kunai at the animal, but it jumped to the side at a hidden signal from Arakhan, cantering out of sight. 

Jin rushed over to Ryuzo’s side. “Ryuzo! Are you all right?” 

“I’ll live,” Ryuzo gasped. He staggered to his feet, trying to get to his blade, only to fall heavily against Jin, dizzy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part inspiration for General Arakhan: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/W1VEQ


	20. Chapter 20

General Arakhan’s forces retreated past Castle Shimura to Kubara Crossing, to Jin’s surprise. “They still have greater numbers than us combined,” Jin said as he waited before the opening gates of Castle Shimura with General Liang, Masako, and Masaru. “Why not regroup at Fort Koyasan?” 

“Hard to stay in Toyotama when every node of their supply lines in this part of Tsushima gets repeatedly raided by smugglers and ronin,” Guiying said with a glance at Jin. “You have interesting friends.” 

“I do my best,” Jin said. The _Koinobori_ had been raiding this part of the coast under the direction of Goro and Lady Sanjo, with Daiki and the Ghosts handling the raids further inland. With most of the enemy forces congregated closer to Castle Shimura, they’d been relatively successful, with few casualties. 

If only Captain Shintaro had stayed aboard the _Koinobori_. Jin looked worriedly over at Masaru, who was frowning at his hands, drawn and pale. He’d barely said a word to anyone after Jin had brought Shintaro's body before him. Jin regretted having gotten bogged down in a fight against Naranbaatar. If only he’d kept better track of where General Arakhan was. As it was, Ryuzo was still resting, and he was one of the lucky ones.

Castle Shimura was in bad shape. Clan Oda had converted the outer courtyard into a triage space, with many Oda soldiers lying unmoving under stained cloth. The stench of human refuse and vomit fouled the air, and the few healthy soldiers looked worn and drained. Excitement still followed them through, many either staring at General Liang in surprise or at Jin in his Ghost armour. 

Lord Oda Hideyoshi greeted them in the inner courtyard, one arm held stiffly against his side. He blinked as Masaru offered him a distracted greeting and looked questioningly over at the rest of them, his stare resting over Guiying. “The Song Chinese changed sides?” Lord Hideyoshi asked.

“Some of us, yes,” Guiying said, clasping her hands and bowing with a warm smile. “Lord Sakai made a persuasive argument.” 

Jin stared at Guiying. All her sharp edges seemed to have smoothed down all at once—even the way she held herself seemed subtly different. Puzzled, he stayed quiet as Hideyoshi invited them into the main keep for refreshments. “You took your time,” Hideyoshi said as they sat with tea and snacks. 

Masako bristled, but Guiying said, “Lord Sakai considered it unwise to leave enemies at our back, and believed that you were best-placed of anyone on Tsushima to withstand a Mongol siege. After all, I’ve heard stories of Clan Oda’s exploits even in China.” 

Jin blinked, even as Hideyoshi looked at Jin and said, “Is that so? Well! I’m not sure if you know this, Lord Sakai, but seven years ago, Clan Oda believed that the Shikken may have been too hasty in his judgment against you. Why, had you been honoured for your deeds as you should have been, I would’ve liked to marry one of my daughters into your clan. Perhaps it isn’t too late, hm?” 

“You, ah, honour me. Lord Hideyoshi,” Jin said. He looked over to Masaru for help, but Masaru had his eyes fixed on his tea, drinking slowly.

It grew too much even for Hideyoshi. “Lord Masaru?” he asked. 

“Clan Hōjō suffered a few setbacks on its way here,” Guiying said smoothly when Masaru didn’t even look up, “and I believe Lord Masaru is reflecting on the nature of loss.” 

“Hrm. Perhaps. Clan Adachi as well, I suppose? How is your son?” Lord Hideyoshi asked Masako. “Perhaps matters wouldn’t have come to such a state had you accepted Clan Oda’s proposal two years ago.” 

“Marry one of your cousins?” Masako let out a loud snort. “Please. I’d rather marry a—”

“Surely Lord Takemi, as Lord of Ariake, would not have agreed to such a thing,” Guiying cut in, affecting genteel surprise. “Had my son survived the Battle of Yamen, despite his tender age, he would’ve objected to any remarriage on my part as well. Or is Japan so different? Without a husband in our lives, we’d have to obey our sons’ wishes, after all.” 

“True,” Hideyoshi said, exhaling, even as Masako frowned at Guiying. “No matter—no use discussing things in the past. We must make plans to fight our way north and chase all these foreigners into the sea. We should set out tomorrow and attack Kubara Crossing.” 

“Have you been scouting Kamiagata?” Jin asked.

“Scouts? What for? We know the layout of this land. I was here seven years ago as well,” Hideyoshi said, scoffing. “We take Kubara Crossing, Fort Kaminodake, then Fort Kikuchi. After that, it’s a matter of retaking Fort Jogaku before regrouping for our final assault on General Arakhan’s forces at Port Izumi.” 

Masako laughed, but even as Jin began to object, Guiying said, “An excellent plan of attack. However, my soldiers and I aren’t as hardy as you samurai, and need some time to recover from our march here. Further, forgive my ignorance, but wouldn’t such a plan require general agreement between you lords?” 

Hideyoshi glanced at Masaru, who made no comment. “I am the Jitō of this island now,” Hideyoshi said. “I don’t require agreement.” 

“Oh?” Guiying said, looking at Hideyoshi in seemingly genuine surprise. “I was under the impression that Lord Shimura was Jitō of Tsushima. Or was General Fan wrong?” 

“Lord Shimura tragically passed away at Komoda Beach,” Hideyoshi said. 

“I’m glad to say that he survived, and is recovering from his injuries in Fort Takeshiki,” Guiying said with an earnest smile. “Perhaps we should send for him? Just so that everything is back into the right order.” 

“Alive!” Hideyoshi said, shocked. Annoyance briefly crossed his face, only to be smoothed away as he nodded. “Yes. Immediately. I’ll arrange for an escort.” 

“Surely we wouldn’t have to trouble you so. Perhaps you could task Lord Sakai with such an escort?” Guiying said. Jin nodded slowly, meeting Hideyoshi’s eyes, and it was Hideyoshi who made a show of drinking his tea. 

“I’ll await Lord Shimura’s return to his castle, then, and wish him a quick recovery,” Hideyoshi said.

As they rode out of the castle, Masako started laughing. Guiying offered her a faint smile but said nothing until they were out of earshot of the sentries. “I don’t know how you said all that with a straight face,” Masako said, guffawing. “Obey our sons, indeed! That’d be the day.” 

“I’ve had a lot of practice making people like him do what I want. We need to buy time for our scouts to explore the lay of the land ahead. Even if it means putting Jin’s uncle back in charge,” Guiying said. 

“You said he was mediocre,” Jin told her, making a face. 

“Better someone mediocre than someone incompetent,” Guiying said, though before they reached the Song encampment around Fort Koyasan, she glanced at the silent Lord Masaru and gave Jin a significant look. 

Jin got the hint. He nudged his horse next to Masaru’s as Guiying led Masako away, ostensibly to talk about combined scouting efforts. “Lord Masaru,” Jin said respectfully. “May we speak?”

Masaru stared wearily at him in silence. As Jin was beginning to think that Masaru would ignore him and ride on, Masaru said, “Come.” 

They rode out to the cliffs overlooking Kubara Coast, the lighthouse rising out to their left. Ships still dotted the sea, though many of them were moving north to regroup with the rest at Port Izumi. As they stared at the warm horizon, Masaru said, “You grew up with Ryuzo.”

“Yes,” Jin said. 

“I envy you,” Masaru said with a wan smile. “How many years of your life was that?” 

“Not enough,” Jin said, “and we spent ten years apart.” 

“It’ll never feel like enough.” Masaru stared at the sea. “I’m so tired.” 

“Lord Masaru—”

“Objectively, I knew this was likely to happen. It’s why I tried to force Shintaro to stay on the mainland. He said he’d come to Tsushima whether I liked it or not. That death was part of being one of the samurai.” 

“Captain Shintaro was a wise man.” 

“I should have left him aboard the _Koinobori_ ,” Masaru said, looking at the slow-sailing ships in the sea. “An error in judgment. I thought he would be safer with me.”

“Your strategies work,” Jin said, wishing he knew what more to say. Masaru’s and Guiying’s combined tactics had sowed confusion through the enemy ranks, luring General Fan and the bulk of his forces into a neat trap against the foothills. Ranks of archers, crossbowmen, and snipers with hand cannons mowed down scores of Yuan soldiers, forcing General Fan to call a retreat. 

“Do they?” Masaru rubbed a hand slowly over his face. “I spent seven years planning for this, considering plans of attack from every objective angle. Never looking at the people I might have to sacrifice, only concentrating on my goal. To help slow or stop the Mongol assault.”

“You’ve done what you can.” 

Masaru shook his head. “You don’t approach war the way General Liang or I do. You just fight to save the people you treasure. Only a few days ago I would have called that naive. Yet you’ve preserved the people you wished to protect. While I haven’t.”

“Only so far. And very much because of you.” 

“I wish it were Ryuzo who had died.” Masaru smiled wearily at Jin’s carefully blank expression. “A terrible thing to wish for, I know. Still, seven years ago, he betrayed you, and you moved on. I wouldn’t have been able to if I were you. Not from something like that. Yet death is far more final.” 

“You’ll move on,” Jin said, staring Masaru in the eyes, “because if you don’t, when you find Captain Shintaro again beyond the gates of Yomi-no-kuni, you’d have to face his disappointment.” At Masaru’s frown, Jin said, “Captain Shintaro died trying to save someone under your command. Finish his work in his memory.” 

“Memory is a fickle thing,” Masaru said, though he looked back at the sea. “Leave me.” 

“Lord Masaru—”

“I need to think things over for a while. Leave.”

#

“Shouldn’t you rest?” Jin asked as they rode south. “Are you even fit to ride?”

Ryuzo scowled at Jin. “I’m fine. I’m not the one who got speared through the chest.” 

“That… wasn’t your fault,” Jin said uncomfortably. 

“I know.” Ryuzo let out a frustrated breath. “I’ve been thinking it over. I don’t think there was any way to save him. That just makes it worse.” 

“Ryuzo—”

“If I were as good as you, I would’ve saved him,” Ryuzo said. He hunched over his saddle and glared at the road ahead. He’d wished he were as good a swordsman as Jin before, many times. Ten years ago, even, during the duel. He’d never wished so hard for it until he’d watched a friend who’d tried to save him get killed for trying. 

“Maybe not. General Arakhan is formidable. I’ve never seen anyone fight like that. Like he wasn’t even trying very hard.” 

Ryuzo shivered. “From the reports Lord Masaru received, General Arakhan used to be one of Khotun Khan’s teachers.” 

“Him? He doesn’t look that old,” Jin said, surprised. 

“They don’t prize seniority based on age, but strength. We don’t know much about him, but Lord Masaru estimated that Arakhan is likely twenty years younger than Kublai Khan or more. They’re reportedly good friends. Related by marriage.” Speaking of Masaru. “I heard you spoke to Lord Masaru. How… how’s he?” Ryuzo hadn’t dared show his face around. He’d been relieved when Jin had said that he had to head south. Even if riding off felt a little like running away. 

“Grieving. He seems so lost. It surprised me.” 

“Really?” 

“Lord Masaru struck me as an unflappable man.” 

“You don't know him all that well,” Ryuzo said. On the mainland, Masaru and Shintaro had been inseparable. Their wives were fast friends and didn’t care.

“How did you come under his employ?” 

“I was doing odd jobs around Kyoto for a while. Just making enough to survive. One day I was trying to find a place to sleep for the night, and a random samurai challenged me to a friendly duel.” Ryuzo smiled wanly. “That was Captain Shintaro. When I beat him, he offered me a place to stay for the night, and I ended up staying over the next day too, then it became a habit. It turns out they’d been watching me for a while. Not that I knew that for a year.” 

“They told you?”

“No. It became obvious, is all. Lord Masaru was collecting a very particular set of people from all around Japan. People who’d travelled to China, refugees from the Mongolian conflicts, historians and engineers, more. Still wasn’t worth much in the end. Makes you think, doesn’t it?”

“Perhaps if the Shikken had listened to Lord Masaru and agreed to evacuate Tsushima, things would’ve been different,” Jin said. 

“An evacuation on that scale isn’t easy to manage. Not to mention they’d have to feed all those displaced people while feeding all the clans remaining on the island. The Shikken probably thought it was too much trouble,” Ryuzo said with a dry laugh. “Samurai lords don’t care about the rest of us all that much. You’re the exception.” 

“Lady Masako—”

“She wasn’t born a samurai.” 

“Lord Masaru wanted to evacuate.”

“Just the women and children, and not because he wanted to save lives. He just didn’t want them in the way of his grand plans. If he cared about peasants, he wouldn’t risk them with his Sambyeolcho tactics. Lady Masako only used her retainers.”

Jin frowned to himself. “My uncle was the one who taught me that samurai had a responsibility to the people they ruled. I’ve seen him roll up his sleeves to help farmers when they need it, even mundane things like moving a cart.” 

“Children were sold into slavery just a little north from his castle when Toyotama descended into famine after the Yarikawa rebellion,” Ryuzo said with a snort. “Your uncle doesn’t care as much as you think. It’s just you. Because somehow, despite everything you were born to, despite that frightening strength of yours, you’re a genuinely good person. It’s annoying.” 

“Good people don’t mass poison a castle,” Jin said. 

“Or maybe when they do, they spend the next few years regretting it, and refusing to do it again,” Ryuzo said, with a glance at Jin. 

“General Liang said that righteous and ruthless men were the most dangerous.” 

“She’s probably right,” Ryuzo said. 

As night fell over the ravaged land, Jin led them to a hidden nook in an overgrown, lush area that still looked fairly untouched. The southeastern section of the old Shimura hunting grounds. Before the first invasion, Ryuzo had never been here—Clan Shimura reserved this entire area for its use. Deer leapt out from the grass as they passed, tails flicking up as they darted out of sight. Jin insisted that Ryuzo take a break by the fire while he left to catch them something to eat, returning with a large fish that he scaled awkwardly until Ryuzo shoved him aside and took over. 

“Stop fussing over me,” Ryuzo told Jin as Jin kept getting into the way as he grilled fillets of it on a flat stone over the fire. Jin bit on his lower lip but sat still, contenting himself by studying Ryuzo with anxious glances through dinner. “I’m fine.” 

“Head injuries are complicated—”

“Don’t make me hit you to prove it,” Ryuzo said. That made Jin go quiet as they ate, cleaned up, and prepared to rest. 

As Ryuzo considered maybe taking it in turns—surely Toyotama wasn’t free of enemy patrols yet—Jin said, “I do owe you. A punch.” 

“That was a joke,” Ryuzo said, trying to get comfortable on the grass. Sleeping in armour was never too fun. 

“Was the rest of it a joke?” Jin asked, though he smiled tentatively. “The things you said you wanted to do.”

“What, now?” Despite the circumstances, Ryuzo’s mouth went a little dry. 

“Is it very complicated?” Jin asked, looking so genuinely concerned that Ryuzo laughed. He got up and looked through his saddlebags, finding the small pot and tossing it to Jin. Jin stared at it, puzzled, even shaking it. “What’s this?” 

“Seaweed extract. _Not_ for eating,” Ryuzo said, as Jin opened the pot. 

“For?” 

“Best I show you,” Ryuzo said, taking it back from Jin, “though we probably should keep our weapons close.” Jin looked curious but nodded. He blushed as Ryuzo positioned him over his lap, his back to Ryuzo, removing his obi, weapons, and the layers of armour over Jin’s flank and ass. Ryuzo squeezed Jin’s pert rump appreciatively—nice even under his clothes—and Jin gasped as Ryuzo pulled Jin’s pants down, baring that lush ass to the warm night. 

“Bend over,” Ryuzo said, pushing Jin down onto his elbows and tugging up his hips for a better view. He slowly undid Jin’s fundoshi as Jin squirmed, wriggling then yelping as Ryuzo nipped him on one pert cheek. 

“Ryuzo!” 

“Couldn’t resist that,” Ryuzo said, snickering. He swiped his tongue playfully up Jin’s balls, curling the tip against the soft, cool skin. Jin twitched with a low sob, clutching at the grass and Ryuzo’s knee. Ryuzo nipped him again over a cheek as he opened the jar, kissing the mark he left. Jin gasped as he did it again, biting and sucking marks over the firm cheeks, the powerful thighs, until Jin stuffed his wrist into his mouth to stifle his whimpers. 

“All right there?” Ryuzo asked, grinning against marked flesh. Jin nodded, eyes squeezed shut. “You’re meant to be keeping watch,” Ryuzo said, and laughed as Jin looked back over his shoulder with a glare. “This next part. If it gets too weird, tell me, all right?” 

“What?” Jin asked, peering back as Ryuzo swiped his fingers generously through the extract. He stiffened with a squeak as Ryuzo pressed a tentative finger into his small pucker, rubbing a thumb against the clenching muscle as he pushed carefully deeper. Jin looked so confused that Ryuzo nearly laughed. Gods, how was it possible for a man like Jin to even have a cute side like this? It took some gentle probing for Jin to get used to having a finger inside him—he kept squirming and gasping against Ryuzo. Sensitive, maybe. Fingers squeezed tightly over Ryuzo’s knee as he managed to fit in a second digit, working it deeper slowly.

Ryuzo found the right spot by chance—the distant call of a deer startled him into pushing his fingers deeper at an angle. Jin arched against Ryuzo, crying out so loudly that Ryuzo thought he’d hurt Jin for a second. If Jin’s face wasn’t so red with embarrassment. “All right there?” Ryuzo asked anyway. Jin nodded slowly, then gasped and squealed again as Ryuzo pressed his fingers against the same spot. “Oi, oi,” Ryuzo said, laughing. “Be quiet down there.” Damn. He was aching in his pants, but as much as Ryuzo was tempted to fuck Jin right now, they had a long road ahead of them and back. With Jin’s uncle. 

“Is that… is that meant to feel so good?” Jin asked, dazed and trembling. 

“Some people are more sensitive than others,” Ryuzo said, breathless. “Damn. You look so… I want to have you.” At Jin’s blank stare, Ryuzo spat on his hand and reached under Jin, stroking Jin’s eager cock playfully. “I want to put mine inside you. Right where my fingers are now.” 

“It fits?” Jin said, suspicious, then moaning as Ryuzo thrust his fingers against him. Jin clenched down over his digits, already so eager for more. “O-oh…” 

“It’ll fit in time,” Ryuzo allowed. “If we do this more often. Gets you used to it.” He rubbed his thumb against the rim as he thrust, tugging at Jin as Jin clutched at the grass and bucked against him, keening, until with a final thrust of Ryuzo’s fingers, Jin’s cock pulsed in his grip, spilling over the grass between Ryuzo’s legs. 

“Lots of things to practice then,” Jin said as he caught his breath, shifting around to kiss Ryuzo, scratching over his shoulders. When Ryuzo laughed and kissed him back, Jin pulled at Ryuzo’s clothes impatiently until he’d shed enough pieces of armour and cloth to free Ryuzo’s cock. Meeting Ryuzo’s eyes, Jin bent to take it into his mouth, drinking him in until Ryuzo began to moan his name.


	21. Chapter 21

The _Koinobori_ happened to be moored near Castle Kaneda when Ryuzo and Jin made it there, which made things easier. The soldiers at Fort Takeshiki accepted General Liang’s written order without question, helping pack supplies onto a spare horse. The healer came along—a brusque, quiet man with an introspective stare and a wispy beard who introduced himself in broken Japanese as ‘Pei’ and refused to speak further. Lord Shimura frowned when told that Jin was escorting him back to his castle, but said nothing—not even commenting on Ryuzo’s presence. 

Thankfully, Lord Shimura had recovered enough to ride for short distances, though he looked pale and wan by the time they reached the beach beside the castle and had to be helped off the horse and into a boat. Jin tried to ignore how Lord Shimura’s jaw clenched at his touch. His uncle was a proud man. 

“Lord Shimura!” Goro greeted them once they were on board. “You survived after all? The Gods are good.” 

Lord Shimura blinked, some of his reserve fading. “Goro. Why are you here?” 

“I’ve become one of Lord Masaru’s kashindan,” Goro said, and looked so depressed about it that Lord Shimura was visibly taken aback. 

“Long story,” Jin said, wanting to help Lord Shimura somewhere that he could rest. “Goro-san, did you clear up the captain’s cabin as we asked?” 

“Hai! It’s. As clean as it’ll get? Call if you need me.” Goro started for the helm and paused. “Ah… is Captain Shintaro coming back anytime soon? Just, it’s very strange having to deal with Lady Sanjo of the _Umugi II_ as though we’re fellow captains? She used to be my boss. She frightens me.” 

Ryuzo stiffened. Jin ducked his head. “Captain Shintaro passed away while we were attempting to retake Castle Shimura,” Jin said. 

“Oh… oh. I’ll. Get back to the. I’ll get back to work,” Goro said, scuttling off to the stern. Ryuzo glanced at Jin, then turned and followed Goro. 

The _Koinobori_ set sail as Jin helped Lord Shimura to the bunk in the captain’s cabin. The crew had aired out the cabin, the hidden chamber left open and partly filled with bundles. “I’ll ask Goro-san for some tea,” Jin said.

“No need. Update me on the situation. Why does General Liang want me back at Castle Shimura?” 

Jin began to kneel at his uncle’s feet, only for Lord Shimura to pat the bunk beside him. Jin sat and described how the campaign in Toyotama had gone so far. Lord Shimura frowned as Jin mentioned the new devices, and asked several questions about General Arakhan and the mixed army. As Jin delicately described Masaru’s distracted sorrow at the meeting with Hideyoshi, Lord Shimura exhaled, looking out of a porthole at the sea. Once Jin was done, Lord Shimura asked, “How many survivors so far? Rescued from Toyotama.” 

“Not nearly enough.” Thankfully, only Turtle Rock Shrine had fallen to the Mongols. Jin gave Lord Shimura the latest number he knew. His uncle went pale, staring at his hands. 

“Kamiagata?” Lord Shimura asked. 

“We don’t know. Norio-san is hopeful, though. He’ll be accompanying our ships north after they drop us off to have a look.” 

“Perhaps Lady Masako was right. She kept telling me that I hadn’t done enough these past few years. I hoped I had. I tried to learn. Bolstered the number of archers we had. I allowed Clan Oda to double the military presence on the island. Built new forts and reinforced the villages, hoarding supplies. Said not a word about Lord Masaru’s unorthodox plans.” Lord Shimura exhaled. “Another failure.” 

“We can still stop General Arakhan from attacking Iki and the mainland,” Jin said, though he felt the sense of failure just as keenly. “However, given the state of Clan Oda’s forces that I could see, the remaining fighting-fit military force available to us now is mainly General Liang’s.” 

Lord Shimura sniffed. “A woman who will change her face depending on who she’s addressing. Her tone wasn’t half as sweet with me.” 

Dismayed at how sour Lord Shimura sounded, Jin said, “With Lord Oda’s temper as it was, and Lord Masaru sunk in his grief, General Liang felt she needed to buy some time for us to scout Kamiagata.”

“So you’ve already said. It still tells me that she’d say whatever she has to, to get what she wants. She’s lying about her soldiers being frailer than Japanese samurai. They’re all veterans to a hair—the Song Chinese fought a very long war against the Mongols and their allies.” 

“Would you rather we charged recklessly north at Lord Oda’s command? Besides, Lady Masako found it amusing.”

“She would.” Lord Shimura held up a palm as Jin began to protest. “I understand what must be done. I’ll handle Lord Oda. As I did seven years ago.” 

“I’d maybe try my best not to offend our major military ally as well,” Jin said, as tactfully as he could. 

Instead of the flash of temper that he’d expected, Lord Shimura regarded Jin with something closer to amusement. “I’m not a child, Jin.” 

“Just saying. General Liang said that you were a hard person to like.” 

“She did?” Lord Shimura scowled. “You talked to her about me.” 

“I wanted to keep updated about your health. Besides,” Jin said, “ _you_ told her about me.” 

Lord Shimura looked away, as though embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have played her game at all—I could see what she was trying to get at. I tried to tell her only inconsequential matters, but the General is… It was a lapse of judgment.” 

“I didn’t mind. It worked out in our favour.” So far, anyway. “Besides, you needed to know how the war was going.”

“I could guess, given that I was still alive and being treated well. Nor did it matter, given I couldn’t do anything about it from where I was. I should’ve just ignored her.”

“She’s hard to ignore,” Jin said, chuckling. 

Lord Shimura gave Jin a hard stare. “You admire her.” 

“Our world is unfair to women. Only remarkable women like Lady Masako and General Liang can rise to the sort of power that they hold, despite everything that the world places in their way. Why shouldn’t I admire them?” Jin asked, hoping that his uncle wasn’t about to say something dismissive. 

“Difficult women,” Lord Shimura said, though he sounded more thoughtful than derisive. 

“Women are often called difficult for doing—or wanting—the same things that men would be praised for in their place,” Jin said, having seen that where Lady Masako was concerned. 

“You sound just like your mother.” Lord Shimura waved Jin away before he could say a further word, looking tired. 

Ryuzo looked inquiringly at Jin on the upper deck. “Everything all right?” Ryuzo asked. 

“I think I’ve talked him into hopefully being civil,” Jin said as he leant against the rail and watched the sea go pass. 

Ryuzo laughed. “Our lives and Tsushima’s future are at stake, and Lord Shimura has to be persuaded to be polite to a woman?” 

“He’ll have to mediate between the representatives of two powerful mainland clans and a General who has nothing left to lose.” Jin didn’t envy Lord Shimura the balancing act to come. “Also, he still isn’t very well.” 

“Do you think he can do it?” 

“We’ll have to hope so.”

#

General Liang met them on the beach southeast of Kubara Falls with Tang Zhen, along with several Chinese warhorses decked in elaborate scaled armour. Larger than the kiso uma and bred to carry both their heavily armed riders and wear suits of lamellar of their own, they eyed Jin and the others with intelligent curiosity. “Thought you might have left your horses down south,” Guiying said as they got off the boats. She smiled with mock innocence as Lord Shimura surveyed the horses. “These are from my stables, though I’m not sure if you’re used to Chinese warhorses. They might be a little too much horse to handle for the uninitiated.”

Jin winced. Lord Shimura glanced at Guiying instead of snapping at her as Jin expected and stalked over to the closest horse, pulling himself into the saddle with his usual grace. It shifted under his weight but went still as it sensed the deft touch and posture of an experienced rider. “Thank you for the loan,” Lord Shimura said. 

“Keep it if you like,” Guiying said, tilting her head. 

“A generous gift. One that I’ll treasure,” Lord Shimura said. 

Guiying laughed. “So Lord Shimura also has a silver tongue. I’m shocked. Did your nephew persuade you to be so sweet? There’s no need to bother. We’re already allies out of necessity. Or were you told to practice?” 

Ouch. “General Liang,” Jin said, hoping to head off an argument. 

Lord Shimura merely eyed Guiying with unreadable calm. “Can’t I be sweet to people because I want to be, without it having to be due to my nephew?” He nudged the horse, trotting toward the path. Guiying stared, momentarily speechless. She glanced over at Jin, who must have looked as confused as he felt. Guiying frowned and urged her horse after Lord Shimura. 

As Jin and Ryuzo mounted up, Ryuzo said, “Huh. I thought you said your uncle didn’t like her.” 

“I thought they didn’t like each other,” Jin said, bemused. “When I was talking to him aboard the ship, he said playing strategy games with her had been a lapse of judgment. Then he complained that she wasn’t as nice to him as she was to Lord Hideyoshi, and got annoyed when he thought that I admired her.” 

Ryuzo stared at Jin, then at the others further up the road. “Jin. Did you hear what you just said?” 

“What do you mean?”

Ryuzo snickered. “Sounds like Lord Shimura likes the General a lot. If you get what I mean.” 

“Not at all,” Jin said, surprised. “When I talked to him about possible Song Chinese resettlement after the war, he was against it. Said the Shikken wouldn’t approve.” 

“Annoying as that is to contemplate, what does that have to do with this?” 

“You’ve said so yourself—my uncle doesn’t know how to handle powerful women.” 

“He still doesn’t,” Ryuzo said cheerfully as he nudged his horse forward. “This is going to be a disaster. Hopefully, one that doesn’t blow up in everyone else’s faces.”

#

Jin had been hoping to follow Lord Shimura into the meeting with Hideyoshi just in case, but Yuna caught him and Ryuzo at the gate to Castle Shimura. Lord Shimura glanced back at them as he rode through but made no comment, dismounting at the stables without needing aid.

“Jin, I need you on this,” Yuna said, waving him to the open road. Reluctantly, Jin nodded. 

“Relax,” Ryuzo said, grinning slyly. “Lady Masako’s going to be there too.” 

“That usually makes things worse,” Jin said. 

“They’ll be fine,” Yuna said, misunderstanding Jin’s concern. “That Chinese General’s very good at stalling. Which is what they need to do for now, because Kamiagata’s even worse than it was before, and if Lord Hideyoshi gets his way we’re all going to die.” 

“Lead on,” Jin said. He looked over at Ryuzo, who nodded and followed. 

As they rode north, Yuna glanced at Ryuzo and said, “I ran into some ex-Straw Hats while I was hitching a ride north on one of those smuggler boats. Daiki, I think his name was.” 

“What about him?” Ryuzo asked, his tone neutral. 

“Nice man. Kept talking about his daughter. Is she a newborn or something?” Yuna asked. 

“No? I think she’s at least five,” Ryuzo said. 

“Really? I didn’t get that from the way he kept going on about it. Thought he was a proud new father or something.” Yuna chuckled and gave Jin a mischievous look. “They don’t seem all too bad. Maybe we shouldn’t have gotten rid of so many of them last time, hm?” 

Jin stared down at his hands, uncomfortable all over again. Seeing how happy Ryuzo was with Daiki and Isao had unsettled Jin. It’d made him a little angry with himself. Seven years ago, he’d generally thought nothing about cutting down people who challenged him to a fight when he wasn’t looking for one. He’d killed many people who he hadn’t had to kill. 

“Some of us deserved it,” Ryuzo said. Jin looked sharply at him, but Ryuzo kept his eyes fixed ahead of them. 

“I’d say. A lot of you became no better than bandits at the end,” Yuna told him. 

“Yuna,” Jin said. 

“It’s true.” Ryuzo’s grip tightened on his reins, and he nudged his horse on ahead. Jin exhaled. 

“What?” Yuna said, puzzled. “I was going to say that I liked Daiki and his friends. They asked me to go drinking with them, even. Turns out, I even know Daiki’s wife—Hana used to work for Kenji in his brewery. I lost track of them after the first war when I went to work for Lady Masako.” 

“Sore topic,” Jin said. Yuna sniffed but said nothing else. They took the long way around Kubara Crossing until they came to a high cliff overlooking the rolling, mountainous sprawl of Kamiagata. Yuna led them down across the river ford, avoiding the road and observing the ground. As they reached the torii gates marking the entrance to the Crane Mountain Shrine, Yuna held up a hand for a long moment before motioning for them to take a circuitous route around. They hid their horses in the woods and climbed up handholds that looked new. Someone had broken the repaired bridges, seeding open walkways with spikes. 

As they got to the top of the shrine, Takeshi rose from behind a rock with a bow. The hunter relaxed as he recognised Yuna and Jin, his browned face grown more worn and lined with time under his leather armour. “Lord Sakai. It’s good to see you. Wish we didn’t have to meet like this yet again, though.” 

“I feel the same way,” Jin said.

“Show him,” Yuna said, waving Jin and Ryuzo over. They walked over to a new viewing platform that had been converted into a triage space. A man lay dead in a corner, covered in straw. From the brightness of the blood soaking into the bamboo platform, it looked new. 

“Passed away not long after you headed south,” Takeshi said. He bent, gently lifting the straw. The man’s legs were gone—blasted away into bloody stumps. Someone had tried to staunch the bleeding with tourniquets, but it hadn’t worked. 

Jin sucked in a tight breath, even as Ryuzo asked, “What happened? A bomb?”

“A bomb hidden in the ground,” Takeshi said. 

“Must be those ‘land mines’ that General Liang was talking about,” Yuna said grimly. “Wasn’t just Kai here. Chimon, too. I’ve asked the Ghost scouts to withdraw for now to Castle Shimura. They’ll update Lady Masako and the others.” 

“All over Kamiagata?” Jin asked, horrified. “Is this… is this because of what we did north of Kushi Temple?” 

Yuna let out a loud snort, even as Takeshi said, “I don’t know about Kushi Temple, but the Mongols seeded the area with the things not long after they landed and occupied Kamiagata. Made entire regions inaccessible, trying to cut us off from going south. My men and I only made it here recently by testing the ground before us with long sticks overnight. It’d be slow going for the rest of you, though. Especially for an army.” 

“Maybe General Liang would have a solution. It’s her people who invented the things,” Ryuzo said, staring at the stained straw in dismay. 

“Is everyone else in Kamiagata…” Jin trailed off uncomfortably.

“Dead? Probably,” Takeshi said, grim. “Cedar Temple got razed to the ground this time. White Falls Village, the silk farms, Kin Sanctuary, Kawachi Village… they’ve all been destroyed. The Mongols have occupied both Port Izumi and Jigoku Temple. Along with Fort Kikuchi and Fort Kaminodake.”

“Why haven’t they headed off to Iki?” Ryuzo asked. “Or are they preparing for a big counterattack to the south?” 

“Rumour is, they’re being held off by a band of survivors based out of Mount Jogaku. That mountain’s still snowed in right now, even with the warm weather we’ve been having. Won’t be for long, though.” Takeshi shook his head. “I don’t know how real this rumour is. The fisherman who told me about it described people wielding flaming swords and some samurai who could rain fire down on his enemies.” 

Jin laughed. “I know that man. Good. I hope he’s still holding out. Is there a way that we could get in contact with him?” 

“I know a way north,” Takeshi said, even as one of the hunters rushed up the slope to them, white-faced.

“Takeshi! There’s a Mongol warband at the torii gates. Led by someone calling himself General Arakhan. He wants to talk to the Ghost.” 

“What?” Takeshi glanced at Yuna. “You were followed here?”

“Not that I saw,” Yuna said, looking just as disturbed. “Jin, we’ll cover you, just—”

“He wants to talk? We can talk.” Jin turned, heading briskly down the shrine. 

General Arakhan and his attendants waited out of bow range beyond the torii gates, watching as Jin whistled his horse over and mounted up. As Ryuzo walked up beside him, Jin said, “Wait here.”

“No. If you’re going to do this reckless thing, so am I.” Ryuzo whistled, getting onto his horse. They rode over toward Arakhan, stopping at a safe distance. 

Arakhan smiled. On closer inspection, he didn’t look as old as Jin had thought. The general had a strong-jawed face dusted in dark stubble and piercing dark eyes. The white eagle shifted on his shoulders, cocking its head at Jin and Ryuzo, beak parting. “I hear you are an undefeated warrior,” Arakhan said, in fluent Japanese. 

“I’ve been defeated many times,” Jin said, wary. “Khotun Khan once threw me off the bridge at Castle Kaneda.” 

That got him a laugh, though Arakhan’s attendants stayed silent. “Good! A man should not be shy about defeat. Still, you rose again from the sea. Bested him in a duel.”

“I did. Only for him to retreat to a ship, and call on his men to attack me as well.”

Arakhan frowned slightly. “That’s not the version I heard.” 

“It’s what happened. It didn’t matter.” 

“Tch.” Arakhan’s lip curled. “Running from a duel… that’s not the Khotun I knew. How disappointing.”

“Isn’t pretending to run from battle, only to turn around with a counterattack a classic Mongol strategy?” Jin asked. 

“Not for something like this. No matter. To tell you the truth, war largely bores me,” Arakhan said with a yawn. “Too many details go into having to run an army. Or in devising strategies. So much of it is spent waiting and waiting, doing nothing. But when the fun starts, that’s when a man can truly feel alive. Across the battlefield, a weapon in hand.” 

“War is a waste of life and an affront to the living,” Jin said, “and men who enjoy and glorify it are monsters. If you want a fight, let’s fight. Now. Just us.” 

Arakhan smiled wolfishly. “Tempting. You’ll die, though. Then there’ll be nothing left on this island to amuse me, and I’ll have to move on. The man with the burning sword on the mountain has begun to tire me—I’ll be getting rid of him and his friends soon. I hear Iki won’t be much of a challenge.” 

“You could head off to Hakata Bay,” Ryuzo said. “Fight the army waiting for you there.” 

“Why bother gathering up everyone and sailing there when there’s still a good fight to be had here? Do you know why I’ve let you and your friends come this far?” Arakhan asked Jin, still smiling. 

“Because you think you can crush us, and it’d make our defeat sweeter,” Jin said. “Your allies have left you, however. As have many of your men.” 

“I still have more than I need,” Arakhan said dismissively. “More than Khotun had when he first came to your shores.” 

“I’ve heard enough, and I’m tired of talking.” Jin got off his horse, walking forward. “You want a fight? Fight. I doubt I’ll die as easily as you think.”

“Jin,” Ryuzo warned. 

“Tempting,” Arakhan said. He exhaled, glancing over at his attendants, who murmured to him. “Oh, why not. It’s been a slow day.” He nudged the white eagle into flight and dismounted, cracking his knuckles. 

“No weapon?” Jin asked, frowning. 

“I am the weapon,” Arakhan said, beckoning.


	22. Chapter 22

Jin took in a slow breath and let it out, reaching for calm. He could do this. Disquieting as it was to watch Arakhan’s lips draw into a joyous grin, the way he shook out his shoulders and bounced on his feet, hands held loosely before him in a strange guard position. The way his attendants behind him laughed and joked among themselves. As though their General wasn’t facing someone like Jin, who’d slain a Khan of their kind. 

Arakhan was trying to unsettle him, perhaps. Hoping to finish this quickly, Jin charged, pushing himself into the Dance of Wrath, the lightning-quick three-step attack he’d learned in the heart of Yarikawa, taught to him by a creature of grief and fury. Arakhan somehow avoided the first two strikes, but the third glanced off his mailed forearm, scouring his pauldrons. Arakhan backed away with a laugh, half-turning to show the damage to his attendants with a gesture and a word. They whooped—one even clapped mockingly. 

Jin grit his teeth, adjusting his grip. No quick measures, then. He circled Arakhan, waiting for an attack. “What’s wrong?” Arakhan asked, his arms raised loosely before him. “Do that again. I’ve never seen a move like that before. You’re quick.” When Jin didn't reply and didn’t attack, Arakhan exhaled. He darted forward, then came to an abrupt stop as Jin raised his blade. Laughing, Arakhan playfully batted at the flat of the katana. Jin narrowed his eyes, taking advantage of Arakhan’s lowered guard to stab at Arakhan’s face. 

Arakhan jerked out of the way just in time. He closed in, grabbing a fistful of Jin’s scarf and sleeves and hauling him off balance, kneeing him hard in the stomach, then slamming his elbow into Jin’s back as Jin doubled over. As Jin went down, gasping, he brought up an arm just in time to shield his face as Arakhan stamped down on him. The force of the blow numbed his arm even through his reinforced bracer. Jin rolled free, scrambling to his feet, ducking a jab at his face, launching a lightning-quick strike at Arakhan’s gut. As Arakhan laughed and dodged free, Jin changed the angle of his strike, gashing open Arakhan’s thigh. 

The General jumped free, even as the attendants behind him gasped. Arakhan inspected the damage, touching his fingers to the wound. He smiled broadly as he looked back up at Jin. “I see why you managed to kill Khotun now,” Arakhan said, smearing a streak of his blood in a red line over his nose and cheeks, then licking his fingers clean. “No one’s managed to give me more than minor scratches for years.” 

“Enjoy it while you can,” Jin said, backing off and adjusting his guard. He had a rough gauge on Arakhan’s attack patterns now. 

“I will. I love fighting people who are this good,” Arakhan said, baring his teeth as he brought up his arms back into his guard stance. “I tend to let them live. However, the last one I did ended up betraying me and turning to your side. Not that it was much of a surprise.” 

“General Liang?”

“No. Close. One of her lieutenants, Mu Qingzheng. You’re quite good, however. Maybe as good as he was.” Arakhan beckoned, grinning. “Come on then. Finish this.” 

When Jin scowled but didn’t respond, Arakhan laughed. He darted forward, aiming a tight Jab at Jin’s face. Jin jerked back, bringing his sword down in an overhead slice. Arakhan wove on, grabbing the hilt of Jin’s katana between his grip and angling his free arm under Jin’s, hauling him forward and off his feet with a brutal jerk that also wrenched the blade out of Jin’s grip. As Jin tried to roll with the fall, Arakhan stabbed the katana through Jin’s arm. Jin cried out. Arakhan pinned Jin’s free arm with a foot and dug his knee into Jin’s belly. 

“Not bad,” Arakhan said, playfully stroking Jin’s cheek, “but not good enough. I like you a lot. Think of all the fun we’ll have together—I’ll make you sing for me in different ways. You’d be just as exciting in my bed as you are across a battlefield. All that rage and strength—” 

Jin snarled, even as a spear buried itself in the grass next to Arakhan. He picked it up, hefting it, even as Jin realised in horror that Ryuzo was approaching them. “No. Ryuzo, _run_ ,” Jin gasped. 

“I think I remember you,” Arakhan said, tilting his head. “We were interrupted before, but you’re no match for me.” 

“I don’t need to be,” Ryuzo said. “Jin. Close your eyes, and don’t breathe.” 

He tossed a yellow-banded spherical device into the air beside Arakhan. With a click, it began to spit out clouds of hissing yellow smoke. Jin shut his eyes as Arakhan cursed and backed off. Grabbing hold of the bare blade of his katana, Jin wrenched it out of his arm even as Ryuzo hauled him to his feet. They sprinted for their horses, mounting up. As they kicked their horses into a canter, Jin turned around. Arakhan and his attendants were backing out of the spreading yellow cloud, coughing and wheezing. Arrows whistled past Jin and Ryuzo at the Mongols’ feet—warning shots from Yuna and the hunters. They didn’t faze Arakhan. As he recovered his composure, the Mongol General glanced up and grinned, blowing Jin a kiss.

#

General Liang barged into the room just as Pei finished bandaging up Jin’s arm. Jin yelped, belatedly trying to pull his kimono over his bare shoulders, but she eyed his wounded arm critically. “Your friend Ryuzo said you fought Arakhan in single combat,” Guiying said.

“I tried,” Jin said with a wry laugh. “I’ve never met anyone that good.” 

“I warned you, but perhaps I should have gone into more detail,” Guiying said, pursing her lips. “You’re lucky that you’re alive. It seems Ryuzo stole one of Yu Yan’s mothwing bombs and threw it into Arakhan’s face? Hah! Wish I was there to see it.” 

“Where’s Ryuzo now?” Jin asked, looking behind Guiying as he self-consciously pulled his kimono closed. 

“Talking to Lord Masaru, I think. Or trying to. Hard to tell with that one,” Guiying said, even as Lord Shimura walked into the room behind Guiying with a look of concern at Jin that smoothed away quickly. Brief as it was, it still warmed Jin to see.

“I won’t lose again,” Jin said, more for his uncle’s benefit than Guiying’s.

Guiying laughed. “You will, as you are now. I’ve never seen anyone as good as Arakhan is in a straight fight. No. The next time you face him, don’t bother with a duel. If he’s on a horse, bomb him off it. If he’s on foot, try and kill his attendants before they can pass him anything. Use kunai, whatever you have. Against a man like him, honourable single combat is for fools.”

“He didn’t need any weapons at all,” Jin admitted, frowning. “He mentioned… Could I speak to Mu Qingzheng? Arakhan said they’d fought before.”

“You could try,” Guiying said, looking uneasy, “but he doesn’t like discussing Arakhan. Mu Qingzheng was once the commander of a garrison in a city. A famous warrior. When Arakhan besieged the city, he challenged its commander to single combat, saying he’d spare the city if Commander Mu won. He didn’t. The city was razed to the ground, and Mu Qingzheng spent the next few years in captivity. When Arakhan agreed to release him into my care, he was unrecognisable.” 

“He…” Jin trailed off. Mu Qingzheng hadn’t struck Jin as any different from the other lieutenants under Guiying’s command. “I’ll ask him tactfully and respect his decision if he doesn’t wish to discuss it.” 

“I’ll speak with him and see what he says,” Guiying said. She turned, belatedly noticing Lord Shimura’s presence. “Should you be leaving all those self-important lords to their own devices?” 

Lord Shimura levelled an even stare at her. “I called for a break. This device that the Mongols have seeded over Kamiagata, the ‘land mines’—I’ll need a plan to counter it.” 

“Yu Yan will handle that. If you people are willing to listen to a lecture from a woman of low birth,” Guiying said with a challenging smile. 

“I’ll listen to anyone if it leads to less misery,” Lord Shimura said. Guiying nodded, turning and leaving the room in brisk strides. Jin began to rise, but Lord Shimura waved him down as the doctor left, sinking into a cushion close to Jin. “How bad is it?” Lord Shimura asked. 

“Bruises. A stab that missed anything important. I wish Lord Harunobu were still here,” Jin said. Masako’s husband would’ve beaten Arakhan in a duel.

“You’re already a better warrior than he ever was,” Lord Shimura said.

Jin blinked. “Not at all. Lord Harunobu was so fast—and he always seemed to know what I was trying to do. He could predict my every attack. Perform feats of swordsmanship that I still don’t understand.” 

Lord Shimura shook his head. “I didn’t mean that you were a better swordsman. You’re no kensei, not like he was. Yet that drive in you to win at any cost—it’s stronger than Harunobu’s ever was. Stronger than what I’ve seen from anyone. I wish it weren’t there, that you were closer to the man your parents wished you’d become. Yet I can’t help but acknowledge that it’s made you exactly what Tsushima needs. Whether I like it or not.” 

Jin stared at his hands. “I don’t remember my mother, and remember little of my father. You’re the only parent whose opinion has ever mattered to me. When I thought you’d… passed, I was filled with regret. That I’d spent seven years leaving things the way they were, with us as strangers to each other.” 

Lord Shimura glanced at Jin. “We could never be strangers even if we tried. Jin… you’re not the only one with regrets. I’ve often thought back on what happened during the first war. Whether I could have changed anything. Done something different that might not have pushed you to the point where you felt that you had no choice but to do what you did.”

“I don’t believe so,” Jin said. 

“I also shouldn’t have asked you to then blame it on your friend—a friend who saved your life. It was the desperate attempt of a father willing to sacrifice anyone to save his son. Still. Had you been chosen to do so, you would not be the man I raised.” 

Jin nodded. He’d been surprised himself when Lord Shimura had asked him to blame it all on Yuna. Surprised—then disappointed. “Had we defeated the Khan at Castle Shimura, I would have submitted to your judgment. Had you asked me to turn myself in after I did kill the Khan, I might have. Did the shōgun instruct you to execute me or duel me?” 

“The shōgun asked for your head, but left the method up to my discretion.” 

“A final attempt to salvage my honour, you said.” 

“One that you rejected.” Lord Shimura’s hands clenched briefly in his lap. “You should have killed me then.” 

“What would that have done? Killing you would’ve destroyed me,” Jin whispered. “You’re the only family I have left. What would’ve been the point of sacrificing everything that I did if I had to kill you as well? For some concept of honour that deems it acceptable for sons to kill their fathers? I won’t.” 

Lord Shimura exhaled. “Again you speak heresy,” he said, though he sounded rueful rather than annoyed. He rose slowly to his feet. “General Liang told me some nonsense about carps and dragon gates.” 

“It’s allegorical.” 

“One of her many annoying word games. Either way, she’s mistaken.” Lord Shimura looked soberly at Jin. “You’ve had immense inner strength from the very beginning. An oni’s strength, a dragon’s—whatever you want to call it, it doesn’t matter. The question for me has always been what you choose to do with it.”

#

Mu Qingzheng agreed to talk if he could do it while comfortably drunk. It led to a strange tableau—the big man leaning against a wall in a private room in Castle Shimura with Jin refilling his cup from a cask of hard liquor from General Liang’s stores, while the General held Qingzheng’s hand and patted his back as though soothing a child. Qingzheng lost his already shaky grasp of Japanese after the third cup, his eyes growing unfocused after the fourth. Only then did he let out a tremulous breath and nod.

“Ask your questions,” Guiying said, looking worried. 

“Perhaps this is too cruel,” Jin said, having already regretted his request after seeing the spooked expression on Qingzheng’s face when he’d entered the room. 

Qingzheng glared at Jin, snapping something in Chinese. “Don’t be so ungrateful. Speak,” Guiying translated.

“What is Arakhan’s preferred weapon?” Jin asked. 

Qingzheng laughed. Before he could speak, Guiying said, “He has no preferred weapon. He _is_ the weapon.” 

Those were Arakhan’s words. Jin glanced at her. “You’ve seen him fight.”

“Of course. I’ve duelled him too. When Kublai Khan named Arakhan as the supreme commander of this second invasion, he gave Arakhan free discretion on the choice of his generals. Arakhan summoned everyone of a general’s rank to him, regardless of background, and fought them all. Anyone who could land even a scratch on his armour was selected.” 

“You chose to come to Tsushima,” Jin said, frowning at Guiying. 

“For a given definition of choice,” Guiying said with a dry laugh. “As one of the survivors of the Battle of Yamen, who was also a woman, I had a limited number of choices after our defeat. I could kill myself, warm some Yuan commander’s bed as a concubine, or become a General in Arakhan’s army and wait for a chance to have my revenge. Should you be asking _me_ questions? I warn you, by the tenth cup or so, my lieutenant tends to vomit and pass out.” 

“What are his weaknesses?” Jin asked Qingzheng. 

Qingzheng laughed again. Guiying said, “He has no—” She paused as Qingzheng squeezed her hand, saying something in a slurred voice. “Did he say that he liked you?” Guiying translated. At Jin’s slow nod, Qingzheng paled and took in a shaky breath, closing his eyes. He muttered something that Guiying listened to for a while before saying, “Then you are his weakness. Arakhan doesn’t like killing the people he finds interesting. He wants to break them. Your chance to kill him lies before the breaking point.” 

Jin refilled Qingzheng’s cup. As Qingzheng gulped down the liquor, some of it spilling down his throat, Jin asked, “Do you have any advice?” 

Qingzheng held out his cup. Jin had already lost track of how many cups Qingzheng had gulped down, but he obligingly poured another. Qingzheng drank before leaning heavily against Guiying, breathing slowly. He whispered something that Jin could barely catch. Guiying patted his hand soothingly as she translated, “If he captures you, kill yourself.” 

Jin shivered. This hadn’t been as useful as he’d hoped for. He set down the cask of wine and bowed deeply. “I’m sorry if I reopened any old wounds. Thank you for your indulgence.” 

Qingzheng laughed again. There was something mournful about the sound, despairing. It haunted Jin on his way out, unnerving him. As Jin took a moment behind the guest house to compose himself, Guiying walked up behind him. “I hope that was useful,” she said. 

“I don’t know if it was. I think I hurt Mu Qingzheng for no good reason. I’m sorry.” 

Guiying sat down on the edge of the engawa. “When he first came into my care, Commander Mu refused to speak for six months. The strangest things would send him into a panic. Dogs barking, for example. He improved over time—very slowly. I intended to leave him in China, but when he learned what I hoped to achieve in Tsushima, he insisted on coming along.” 

“You said Arakhan wasn’t at the Battle of Yamen.” 

“He wasn’t. He did, however, once raze a village on one of his rampages through Guangdong. A small village, in the scheme of things. One that I had a lot of happy memories in, before my father moved us to Lin’an. After they married, my sisters returned to the village to live—they’d never quite enjoyed life in the city. They never left again. I don’t even know where their bodies are.” 

“Your grudge is personal,” Jin said.

“Just so. Lord Shimura knows, before you ask. I had to tell him a little about myself for him to be willing to talk to me.” 

“You seem to be getting along now,” Jin said cautiously. 

“We have no choice about that. In any case, Arakhan is just one grudge of a few. The easiest one for me to try and collect. I’d have liked to have Zhang Hongfan’s head, or Kublai Khan’s. But I’ll settle for Arakhan’s.” 

“You wish to fight him yourself?” 

Guiying laughed. “No. I wouldn’t be able to kill him in single combat. I don’t think you can, either. I’m fine with him dying to mortar fire, or something equally impersonal. As long as he dies.” 

“Noted,” Jin said. 

He bowed and began to leave, only to pause as Guiying said, “Jin.”

Jin looked inquiringly at Guiying, but she was looking up at the sky. “I know how you people feel about foreigners. It’ll be hard for my people and me to stay here even after we help you win, won’t it?” 

“Surely the shōgun won’t be that unreasonable.”

Guiying gave him a look of wry amusement. “You saved this island seven years ago and were still branded a traitor. Was that reasonable?”

“If the shōgun reinstates my title, I’ll get my ancestral lands back. Part of Kubara prefecture. It isn’t a large part of Tsushima, but any of you who wish to stay could stay there.” 

“ _If_ he reinstates your title,” Guiying said, though she chuckled. “What, you’d be willing to have a few thousand Chinese people squeeze into your ancestral lands?” 

“Why not?” Jin asked, surprised that Guiying was even asking. “I’ll owe each of you a debt at that point. Besides,” Jin said with a quick smile, “won’t that also give me the biggest army left standing on Tsushima?” 

Guiying laughed. “Don’t joke about something like that. The shōgun will call you a traitor again and hunt you down.” 

“If the shōgunate is only willing to send reinforcements to Tsushima at that point, we’ll see his hypocrisy for what it is.” 

“Wah,” Guiying said, making a show of clapping her hands to her ears, “don’t say anymore. Tch. Close that treasonous mouth before your uncle gets wind of it.” 

“Kublai Khan has many sons, and he’s only in his sixties. Even if we beat back this invasion, who’s to say that he won’t try again? Or his successor? An army of people used to fighting him off would be useful then. Besides, there’d be a lot of work to do even if we win.” All the bodies in the fields would have to be burned, the villages rebuilt. The survivors right now could comfortably all fit in Izuhara. “I’m sure some compromise can be reached.” 

“Maybe I should marry you and claim my army as my retinue. Or offer it as my dowry. Would that work?” Guiying burst out laughing as Jin sputtered and coughed. “Joking, joking. Hai. Look at your face. You samurai are such serious people.” 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Jin said weakly. 

“Don’t worry. You’re far too young for me. Wah! You’re turning so red,” Guiying said, grinning mischievously. “Why, do you like older women after all?” Jin beat a dignified retreat, the General’s laughter ringing in his ears. 

On his way out of the guest compound, Jin nearly walked right into Lord Shimura. Surprised, Jin said, “Should you be out here? Isn’t it getting late?” 

“This is _my_ castle,” Lord Shimura said, though he sounded more amused than annoyed. “Did you learn anything useful?”

“I don’t think so. Just dredged up a lot of painful memories. I’ll apologise tomorrow,” Jin said, uncomfortable all over again. “Oji-ue, did you need something?” 

“No. Rest,” Lord Shimura said, and walked into the guest compound. Jin stared after him, briefly tempted to follow in case Guiying baited Lord Shimura into an argument. He waited for a while, but when Jin didn’t hear any raised voices, he exhaled and walked off to look for Ryuzo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was tempted to just end the fic in this chapter by having Jin murder Arakhan, but it’d have been a cop-out in terms of narrative structure. The fight would therefore be yet another one of those annoying unwinnable fights, even though those are usually at the start of a game (though, in ZoE 2, there is one midway, and I fought that freaking dude for like 20 minutes) or as a Last Stand at the end. In Act 1 of Ghost, I didn’t know you weren’t meant to beat the Khan, and actually fought him for quite a while until I paused to check a guide. 
> 
> The counter Arakhan uses is the Komaki Sword Reversal from Yakuza Kiwami: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UBJfAvsDyvI The fighting in that game is just really cool. Not sure how realistic it is but welp. I’ll probably be cribbing heavily from Kiryu’s Dragon of Dojima moveset for Arakhan. 
> 
> This chapter is a nod to everyone who ships Khotun x Jin ;)) I see you. (Where’s all the Khotun x Shimura stuff though? :))) ) 
> 
> http://cmartinresgmsd.weebly.com/uploads/3/8/3/1/38314033/essentia__histories_057_genghis_khan_the_mongol_conquests_1190-1400ocr1841765236.pdf


	23. Chapter 23

The _Koinobori_ set Jin, Ryuzo, and Norio down close to Cedar Temple with their horses. The silk farm they disembarked at was heaped with blackened debris where the structures had been, though the jetty remained. Their horses snorted uneasily as they rode them through the village. Ryuzo tried not to stare too hard at the dirt. 

“Something wrong?” Jin asked. 

“I keep expecting us to blow up at any minute,” Ryuzo said. 

“General Liang said that General Arakhan didn’t have enough ‘land mines’ to use them vindictively,” Norio reminded him. “Said he’s likely only using them to protect the forts in Kamiagata from being surrounded.” 

“She did. Then she laughed and said that was what she’d do as a reasonable person, and that Arakhan wasn’t always reasonable. Which is the bit that worries me,” Ryuzo said. His hands twitched into fists whenever he thought about Arakhan. The way the General had looked at Jin… if Ryuzo didn’t already want to kill him over Shintaro, that would’ve been enough. If only he’d managed to steal something more interesting from the Chinese armaments. Or thrown the ‘mothwing’ bomb closer to Arakhan’s face. 

“I’m sure it’d be fine,” Jin said, trusting as ever. He didn’t even look disturbed by his defeat. “How was Lord Masaru?”

“I can’t tell,” Ryuzo admitted, He’d made his report the way he used to over the years, but Masaru hadn’t said much. Hadn’t even looked angry, when Ryuzo had mumbled a half-assed apology about Shintaro. Just waved him away. “I’m getting concerned.” 

“Grief takes people in different ways,” Norio said. 

“It’s not like he can go back to the mainland or anything,” Jin said, though he looked troubled. “My uncle’s aware of the issue. He said he’d handle it.” 

“Hope so,” Ryuzo said. He wished he knew Masaru better. Still, some of the other kashindan Captains had been with Clan Hōjō for just as long as Shintaro had been. Surely they could do something. 

“I hear General Arakhan defeated you,” Norio said as they rode cautiously up the road to Cedar Temple. “I’m relieved to see that you escaped with minor injuries.” 

Ryuzo studied Jin’s expression closely, but Jin only let out a wry laugh. “Ryuzo saved me,” Jin said. 

“I’m glad that you haven’t been disheartened by defeat.” Norio smiled approvingly.

“Why would something like that dishearten me? I’ve been defeated many times,” Jin said. He gestured at Ryuzo. “Ryuzo here used to defeat me regularly. Until I finally got taller and bigger.” He paused uncomfortably, perhaps belatedly remembering the disastrous duel. 

“You weren’t even a fun fight most of the time,” Ryuzo said, his tone carefully light. “When you were younger, sometimes you’d start crying once you lost. All the while demanding a rematch. You were such a strange kid.” 

“So were you. Willing to befriend the boy nobody else liked.” 

“I’m willing to befriend almost anyone, given half the chance,” Ryuzo said. He generally liked people, and they often liked him back. It was why the other Straw Hats had been willing to nominate Ryuzo as their leader after their founder died on Komoda Beach. Despite Ryuzo’s relatively tender age and low seniority, and despite there being far stronger swordsmen in the group. 

“I share that sentiment,” Norio said as they crested the rise. “Up until seven years ago, I was willing to believe that everyone was a good person deep down.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t go that far,” Ryuzo said. 

Norio nodded. “The world soon showed me the error of my judgment. I was a fool.”

“I don’t think it’s foolish to want to believe that people can be better than they are,” Jin said, even as they came within sight of the shattered walls of Cedar Temple. Norio exhaled. It didn’t look like anyone had survived. 

“Are you all right?” Jin asked gently. 

Norio didn’t answer for some time. Eventually, he clasped his palms before him and bowed. “We’ll rebuild,” he said, turning his horse back to the road. 

They gave Fort Jogaku a wide berth, mindful of land mines, and skirted patrols past Jogaku Temple Lake. Strange. Kamiagata didn’t look like there were thousands of people in occupation, and Ryuzo said so as they rode. 

Jin nodded. “They’re largely concentrated in the forts and at Port Izumi, according to what the hunters said. Given the number of Song Chinese and Goryeo forces who chose to leave, and the number of casualties the Yuan forces have taken so far, General Liang thinks that in total, we likely now have about half of the forces that they do.”

“Pity that so many Song Chinese chose to sail off,” Ryuzo said, “though I don’t blame them. Given it looks like they won’t get many thanks at all at the end. If any.” 

“The ones who remained are likely here out of loyalty or vengeance or both. For all that General Liang likes to joke about what she’d do after the war, I think she doesn’t care that much,” Jin said. 

“It’s rough losing what she did. Though to then throw yourself into a war just for the chance to get someone you hate killed? Damn. Remind me never to piss off a woman,” Ryuzo said, grimacing. “She’s lucky that Arakhan didn’t know about her grudge.” 

“The Song Chinese all have grudges. They were at war with the Mongols and their allies for a long time, and are hardly happy to be conscripted. Some of them asked the monks for blessings, and we tried talking to them,” Norio said. He glanced at Jin. “Should there be an issue resettling them, I could take some of them in as monks.” 

Ryuzo started to laugh, even as Jin said, “Really?” 

“Cedar Temple, rising again as an army of thousands,” Ryuzo said, grinning.

“They’d have to be genuinely committed to a monk’s path, but I don’t see why I shouldn’t be able to accept people who’re willing to do so. I spoke to Lord Shimura about it,” Norio said. 

Jin blinked. “What did he say?” 

“That he’d handle the matter, but keep my offer in mind.” Norio looked thoughtful. “Lord Shimura appears more… balanced? I don’t know if that’s the right word. Nor did I know him seven years ago. Over the last few years though, whenever I consulted with him at Castle Shimura, he was a different man. More troubled. Perhaps the imminent invasion weighed heavily on him.” 

“He does seem more measured,” Jin said, “though he’s still not well. He might have just been tired.” 

“Perhaps the reminder of his mortality caused him to reach a new equilibrium. It happens,” Norio said. 

“Or maybe there’s a woman on his mind,” Ryuzo suggested.

“That joke is no longer funny,” Jin said, frowning at Ryuzo, who smirked.

#

Yuan forces camped up the main path up Mount Jogaku, but Jin knew of an alternative, treacherous climb up the mountain’s flank. It got them halfway up before defenders nearly brained them with rocks, only to gasp and stare at Norio. Saved by the shaven head of a monk. They relaxed when Norio introduced himself as the leader of Cedar Temple and gasped again when he introduced Jin. That awarded them an excited escort up the rest of the mountain.

Jin looked around with curiosity as they were led into a familiar courtyard. He’d sparred with Bettomaru there in the dead of winter with burning swords. It felt like a surreal memory now in summer, though it was still cold this high up, the air thin.

Bettomaru hadn’t changed much over the years—his honest face cracked into a broad smile as he strode over from the main house. “Lord Sakai! It’s good to see you again.” He looked curiously at Norio and Ryuzo as Jin introduced them, and invited them into the clan house for tea. Survivors packed the inner courtyard and the clan house to the rafters—they had to squeeze through entire families to get to the stairs. 

Jin paused at the sound of a cry of recognition from the corner and smiled. “Yamato-san,” he said, greeting the musician in a blue kimono as Yamato rose to his feet. 

“Lord Sakai,” Yamato said, with a genuine smile. “The Gods are kind.” 

“Not that kind,” Jin said, though the survivors close by gasped and whispered his name. Embarrassed, Jin followed Bettomaru quickly up the steps with Ryuzo at his heels. They squeezed into one of the corner rooms, and a man close by nodded as Bettomaru asked him to fetch tea and refreshments. 

While they waited, Jin sketched out how the war had been going so far. By the time the servant returned with a tray of tea and some mochi, Jin had caught Bettomaru up to the present. “If possible, I’d like to evacuate everyone here to the closest beach, and have my warships pick them up and bring them to Izuhara,” Jin said. 

Bettomaru was already shaking his head. “Few people can handle the path you took, and it’d be a long trek to the closest beach for most, even if we could get everyone down. We’ll be caught on the way.” 

“Surely you can’t stay up here forever,” Ryuzo said, pouring tea for everyone.

“We can’t. This place was never made to withstand a siege. As it is, the survivors’ arrival took me by surprise. A musician named Yamato led them here—said he’d heard of me through the tales. The cold had abated enough that they were able to struggle through to the peak by taking turns to light torches along the way. In the beginning, it wasn’t so bad, but when more and more people arrived, that’s when the Mongols took an interest,” Bettomaru said.

“I’m surprised that you managed to hold out for so long.” Jin looked troubled as he politely ate a mochi. 

“My late father had a love of explosives. We used some of his experiments to collapse parts of the mountain on the Mongols, making the main paths down inaccessible. The lingering snow made it difficult for them to venture to the upper peak without being bogged down and made vulnerable to counterattacks.” Bettomaru sipped his tea. “However, the snows are dissipating, and we’re running out of bombs. When the Mongols clear a path up, we’ll be in trouble.”

“The combined samurai forces will be making their way north to retake the forts, but it’ll be slow going because of the land mines. If we can help you hold this position, we’ll be able to distract their immediate battalions in the area and prevent them from reinforcing the south,” Jin said. That had been the plan that he’d presented to Lord Shimura and the others. “Further, have you met the Mongol General, Arakhan?” 

“We exchanged a few bouts,” Bettomaru said, “but he’s a better warrior than I am. Each time, I was only aiming to distract him long enough for people to retreat. He never chased past the snow line.” 

“If we’re both here, we could keep him at the encampment and give our forces to the south a fighting chance. He enjoys duelling difficult opponents,” Jin explained, as Bettomaru looked puzzled and Ryuzo grimaced. 

“Ah, I see. Well. I’m glad to have you here, whatever the reason, and it isn’t as though you can make things more dangerous with the situation as it already is. I’ll show you around,” Bettomaru said, rising to his feet. “This way.”

#

“You’re in a mood,” Jin said as they squeezed into one of the loft storage rooms for the night. Norio had chosen to rest on the main floor—his presence seemed to keep the children calmer. The storage floor was quiet, but was also the coldest part of the building, and Bettomaru had been apologetic when Jin and Ryuzo had opted for it.

“Just thinking. You can’t be serious about duelling Arakhan again,” Ryuzo said as they piled spare clothes from their saddlebags into a corner for makeshift bedding. 

“Why not?”

“Jin, he beat you the last time. You’re an incredible swordsman, and it was _still_ an uneven fight.” 

“Now I know he isn’t trying to kill me. That gives me an advantage,” Jin said, settling down on their improvised bed with a yawn. 

Ryuzo prodded him in the shoulder, close to his injury. “He doesn’t want to kill you because he wants to do something worse. Doesn’t that bother you at all?” 

“Terrible fates await everyone on this island—and Iki and the mainland—if we don’t succeed in stopping Arakhan.” Jin pulled Ryuzo down, tugging at the knots on his armour. “That weighs more on me than concern about myself.” 

Ryuzo exhaled, though he helped Jin strip off their gear and pile it in a corner. He snuggled against Jin, pulling Jin’s spare kimono over them and slinging an arm over Jin’s belly. He thought Jin would’ve been tired enough from the long day to sleep, but Jin squirmed against Ryuzo instead, nuzzling the hollow of his throat. Ryuzo let out a low laugh. “You realise that there are a lot of people just one floor below us?” 

“What about it?” Jin asked, then badly stifled a groan as Ryuzo pushed his thigh between Jin’s legs.

“You’re hardly that quiet, Lord Sakai,” Ryuzo said, squeezing his ass. “Do you want to traumatise all those children?” 

Jin glared at Ryuzo, even as he tugged Ryuzo down for a kiss. “Shut me up then,” Jin whispered, just before their lips met. Ryuzo growled, pulling him closer, fingers working greedily on Jin’s obi.

#

General Liang sent reinforcements climbing up the side of the mountain with supplies—some of the Ghosts, a handful of Song soldiers, and, of all people, Mu Qingzheng. Having thought that this was the last place Qingzheng would want to be, Jin gawked at him as he walked into the clan house.

Qingzheng looked more like his usual self—a reserved, composed commander. After Jin introduced him, Qingzheng spoke patiently to Bettomaru in his broken Japanese, allocating the soldiers and the Ghosts where they were needed. Then he motioned to Jin to follow him to the inner courtyard. “You fight Arakhan here?” Qingzheng said.

“Bettomaru too,” Jin said, not wanting to steal credit. 

“He hit Arakhan?” 

“No,” Jin said. Bettomaru had admitted with his usual honesty that he hadn’t been able to hurt Arakhan. 

Qingzheng nodded. He backed away and motioned for Jin to draw his sword. “I train you,” he said when Jin looked confused. 

“I’ll get a bokken,” Jin said, starting to back toward the rack of training swords. 

Qingzheng scowled, shaking his head and beckoning. “Not same. Come.” He raised his hands into an unarmed stance that was instantly familiar, even bouncing on his feet in the same way Arakhan had. At Jin’s open surprise, Qingzheng’s mouth pulled into a bitter smile. “I know him well,” Qingzheng said, beckoning again. “Come.” 

Curious, Jin drew his katana. He charged Qingzheng with the same Dance of Wrath that he’d used against Arakhan. Just as Arakhan had, Qingzheng dodged the first two strikes, though with the third, he used momentum to skid to the side, grabbing Jin’s wrist and upper arm, bringing up his knee in a sharp jerk. He paused before he snapped Jin’s arm, tapping his elbow lightly with his knee. “You should,” Qingzheng said, then said the rest in Chinese. Frowning to himself, he looked frustrated as Jin gave him a confused look.

“I can read some Chinese,” Jin said. Qingzheng nodded, bending to scratch the words on the dirt with a knife. “Conservatively. You’re asking me to fight defensively.” 

“Yes. Again.” 

By the time they stopped for a break, Jin realised belatedly that they’d gathered a crowd of rapt onlookers—mostly children. Qingzheng blinked as they rushed over to gather excitedly around him, chattering and shyly touching his lamellar armour. He froze, but as Jin walked over to try and get the kids to leave Qingzheng alone, Qingzheng laughed and knelt, removing his winged helmet and passing it over to a little girl to inspect. Jin left Qingzheng solemnly teaching his new fans how to pronounce his name, heading in to the clan housing to get them a drink. 

Ryuzo caught up with Jin as he was walking out with gourds of water. “Going well?” Jin asked.

“With the reinforcements and their mortars? Better,” Ryuzo said. He glanced out at the inner courtyard. “That’s Mu Qingzheng, isn’t it? The one who Arakhan said betrayed him.” 

“Used to be his captive.”

“What’s he doing here, then? Arakhan’s right down the mountain,” Ryuzo said, lowering his voice. 

“To train me, he says.” 

Ryuzo shuddered. “Hope it doesn’t come to another duel. I’m praying that Arakhan manages to catch a stray mortar shell in the face.” 

“We can’t hold out here forever, even with the supplies. Sooner or later, the Mongols will make the alternate route too dangerous for us to use. We just need to buy time. Lady Masako has retaken Fort Kaminodake, and it’d be a matter of time before General Liang and Lord Oda take Kubara Crossing.” 

“No word about Lord Masaru,” Ryuzo said. 

Jin nodded slowly. That had been unsettling as well. “I’m sure he’s fine. Though. If you’re concerned, you could try and make your way south.” 

“There’s no point.” Ryuzo glanced back at the courtyard as the children laughed at something Qingzheng must have said. “How much more of that do you need?” 

“As much practice as I can get.” 

Ryuzo clapped Jin on the shoulder. “Best get back to it, then. I’ll handle the defence with Norio and Bettomaru.” 

Qingzheng rose as Jin walked back to him and handed him a gourd. They drank, then Qingzheng handed the gourd over to one of the kids, Jin doing the same as they shooed the children back to the sidelines. “Again,” Jin said, backing off and drawing his katana. Qingzheng nodded, bringing up his hands, shifting on his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bettomaru is a child’s name, so it’s kinda weird that he’s still called that… welp, more Ghost name logic I guess. This part of the game is probably an endless series of tower defence minigames or something annoying.


	24. Chapter 24

Yuna walked over to the inner courtyard just as Jin finally managed to knock Qingzheng off his feet. The kids gathered around them burst into cheers and laughter, even as Qingzheng made a show of pretending to die, clutching at his chest. Jin laughed, hauling Qingzheng back up. 

“At least you’re having fun,” Yuna said, looking dubiously at the kids, then at Jin. 

“Has something come up?” Jin asked. 

“Playing messenger, mostly.” Yuna handed a scroll over to Qingzheng, who sobered and walked away to a corner of the inner courtyard. “We’ve taken Fort Jogaku, by the way. Yu Yan invented this large ball device made of bamboo sticks and hammered plates. You push it along or let the wind do it, and it activates the mines it rolls over. Every soldier who isn’t yet fit for combat’s been put to work making them.” 

“Good to hear. How is Lord Masaru?” Jin asked. 

“Still too quiet, but at least he’s stopped being completely withdrawn. Without your uncle in command, however, things would’ve become a shitshow. At least Lord Hideyoshi’s nominally inclined to listen to Lord Shimura so far. Though he probably wouldn’t be, if more of the Oda-affiliated clans had survived.”

“I’m surprised General Liang is fine with that. Or Lady Masako,” Jin said.

“I think they’ve both grudgingly decided that they prefer Lord Shimura to Lord Hideyoshi,” Yuna said, chuckling. “What a choice. No offence, but your uncle isn’t very good at leading an army, and Lord Hideyoshi is worse. Things were better when it was just Lord Masaru, Lady Masako, and General Liang.”

“Likely so.” Politics again. “Better my uncle than me, though I hope he hasn’t been getting into constant arguments with Lady Masako and General Liang.” 

“Lady Masako’s fine working with General Liang. As to the general and your uncle…” Yuna gave Jin and odd look. “You mean you haven’t noticed?” 

“Noticed what?” Jin asked, with a puzzled look. 

“Never mind,” Yuna said, chuckling. “I guess we’ll see when this is over. If we survive. Anyway. I’m here to tell you and your friend with the burning sword that our consolidated forces hope to break through and retake Jogaku Temple soon. Once we do, we’ll push on to Mount Jogaku—I think you’d see us coming. At that point, try and break out of the encirclement from here. Hopefully, we can chase the Mongols back to Port Izumi and onto all the ships they’ve got clustered there.”

“Where’s General Fan?” Jin asked. 

“At the port. I’m not sure what he’s doing, but Takeshi’s scouts think he’s started loading people onto the ships. They’re preparing to go to Iki, maybe.”

“What happened to not leaving a job unfinished?” Jin asked, surprised. 

“That’s Arakhan, not Fan Wenhu. Who knows. General Liang thinks Fan Wenhu’s desperate to at least have one military victory in this campaign, or he’ll be put to death once he gets back to China,” Yuna said. 

Jin scowled. “We’ll have to find a way to stop them at Izumi.” 

“One step at a time, eh?” Yuna looked soberly at Jin, then at Qingzheng, who was walking back toward them. “Best of luck.” 

Qingzheng glanced at Yuna as she went looking for Bettomaru. He frowned to himself, then thrust the scroll in his hands at Jin. Jin gave him an inquiring look but opened it. He couldn’t read all of it, but the gist was generally the same as what Yuna had described. “We defend until temple retaken,” Qingzheng said, pointing at one of the last few lines. “Stop Arakhan here. No try escape. Die if must.” 

“So Yuna said,” Jin said, wondering why Qingzheng had given him the scroll. 

Qingzheng stared steadily at him. When Jin merely stared back, Qingzheng pointed at the first line. “Read this.” Jin translated awkwardly, pausing whenever he read a word he didn’t understand. Most of the time, Qingzheng had a translation available or scratched out alternative words on the ground until Jin understood. It was only until they reached the end of the scroll that Jin finally realised what Qingzheng was trying to do. 

“Do you agree?” Qingzheng asked, his stare boring into Jin’s eyes. 

“Are you prepared to do something like that? After… after everything?” 

Qingzheng looked away, his hands clenching tight, then easing. “Yes.” 

“Thank you. For letting me know.” Jin handed back the scroll. 

“I trust you,” Qingzheng said as he put the scroll away. “No secrets.” 

Oh. “I’m honoured to hear you say so,” Jin said with a smile.

Qingzheng shook his head. “You are still not good enough,” he said tonelessly, backing off and raising his hands into a guard. “Again.”

#

Jin looked asleep by the time Ryuzo tiptoed into the loft, tired from a shift at the night watch and stifling yawns. Ryuzo stripped off his armour, and while setting his weapons aside, Jin curled his arms around his waist with a mumble. “Go back to sleep,” Ryuzo said as Jin rubbed his cheek lazily against Ryuzo’s shoulder.

“Hmmm.” Jin yawned again but stayed where he was. As Ryuzo loosened his obi, Jin slid a warm hand into his clothes, tickling over his belly. 

“Oi, oi,” Ryuzo said, chuckling and patting Jin’s wrist. “Don’t you need to be up bright and early for more training? How’s that going, anyway?” 

“I’m getting better. Not quickly enough, though.” Jin sounded more contemplative than frustrated. 

“Mu Qingzheng’s good. If the two of you attacked Arakhan together—”

“Better to prepare for the worst,” Jin said, kissing the back of Ryuzo’s neck, his hand sliding lower. 

“Jin,” Ryuzo growled as Jin’s thumb curled into his fundoshi. 

“I… I want you to have me,” Jin whispered, his palm rubbing lightly over Ryuzo’s cock through the thin fabric. “Not just with fingers. Tonight.” 

Ryuzo bit down on his groan. “You think that’s not going to be obvious to your new teacher?” 

“I don’t care,” Jin said, squeezing down insistently. “We’ll all be in for the fight of our lives soon. Maybe not tomorrow, or even this week, but it’s almost here. I don’t want to go to something like that with any regrets.” 

“Jin…” Ryuzo twisted around, pinning Jin to their bedding. “You’re sure? I don’t want you complaining to me tomorrow if you’re limping through practice.” 

“I’m sure,” Jin breathed, pulling Ryuzo down for a lingering kiss. Ryuzo tangled his fingers through the knot in Jin’s hair, loosening it over the bedding, then working impatiently on Jin’s clothes, pulling them open. Jin wasn’t much help for all his words, his hands stroking restlessly over Ryuzo’s cheek and back, his thighs rubbing against Ryuzo’s hips. Ryuzo slowed down, easing Jin’s obi free, caressing the parting gap in Jin’s kimono, fingers wandering over twitching muscle. 

As Ryuzo bent to follow his hands with his mouth, Jin tugged Ryuzo back with an impatient little growl. “Hurry,” Jin said, squirming under Ryuzo pointedly and rubbing the bulge in his fundoshi against Ryuzo’s belly. 

“Why, what’s the rush?” Ryuzo asked, grinning as Jin pulled impatiently at their clothes. 

Jin glowered at him. “As you said, I have to wake up early tomorrow.” 

“Well then, maybe we should just stop so you could sleep, Lord Sakai,” Ryuzo said, pretending to get off Jin. Jin growled, hauling Ryuzo firmly back down for a bruising kiss, grinding pointedly against Ryuzo. “Mm,” Ryuzo said, undoing Jin’s fundoshi, “or is there some other reason why you’re so impatient?” He trailed kisses over Jin’s cheeks, whispering into his ear, “Maybe you can’t wait to have me inside you?” 

Jin blushed, burying his face in Ryuzo’s neck as he clutched at his shoulders. “Must you always say things like that out loud?” he said in a small voice, though his cock twitched against Ryuzo’s belly. 

“Is it true?” Ryuzo asked, grinning wickedly. When Jin tensed and wouldn’t look at him, Ryuzo relented, easing up to grope under the bedding for the small pot of seaweed extract. 

Jin misunderstood—he held on to Ryuzo tightly and said, “F-fine! It’s true.” 

Ryuzo swore, leaning his forehead into the bedding and taking a few slow breaths to calm down. “Let me get the extract,” Ryuzo said in an unsteady voice. 

“Oh. Yes.” Jin loosened his grip. Ryuzo swiped up the pot in record time, leaning back in to kiss Jin greedily. His fingers shook as he opened the jar and dug through it, Jin spreading his thighs eagerly as Ryuzo’s knuckles bumped against his pelvis. He arched with a soft gasp as Ryuzo pressed in the first finger, wrapping a thigh around Ryuzo’s waist as he took it easily. 

The third finger was always a little tricky. Jin’s face scrunched up as he tried to relax, breathing slowly as Ryuzo spread him. As he angled to press his fingertips against the right spot inside Jin, Jin squeaked and grabbed at his wrist. “Don’t. I’ll finish too early,” Jin said. 

“What’s wrong with that?” Ryuzo asked, though, at Jin’s glare, he chuckled and eased up, focusing on trying to get Jin looser. “You’re so hot and tight over my fingers… going to feel so good around my cock,” Ryuzo growled. He laughed as Jin whined, his cock jumping against Ryuzo’s stomach and leaving a wet smear. “Really?” 

Jin dug his blunt fingertips into Ryuzo’s back. “Just. Do it now.” 

“You’re not ready yet,” Ryuzo said. Jin still felt so tight over his fingers. 

“I can take it.” 

“Jin.” Ryuzo closed his free hand around the back of Jin’s neck and looked into his eyes. “No. I’m done hurting you.” Jin blinked, then chewed on his lower lip, his eyes growing bright and wet. Alarmed, Ryuzo said, “Hoi. If you start crying, I’m seriously going to stop.” 

“Don’t you dare!” Jin wiped his eyes roughly and went quiet, his breaths shaking into uneven gasps as Ryuzo took his time opening him up. Only when Ryuzo was satisfied did he ease his fingers out and slick up his cock, gritting his teeth. His blood pounded in his ears. As Ryuzo lined himself up with an unsteady breath, Jin pulled him down for a kiss. Jin tensed up as Ryuzo carefully pushed inside him, but relaxed into the kiss as Ryuzo waited. Slow going still, easing inside bit by bit until he was finally, incredibly, as deep as he could go. Jin’s legs wrapped tightly around Ryuzo’s waist, stifling whines against Ryuzo’s mouth. 

“All right?” Ryuzo asked, his voice strangled. 

“I don’t know.” Jin sounded so disoriented that Ryuzo reared back onto his elbows for a better look, concerned—or tried to. Jin held on, pressing his forehead to Ryuzo’s, breathing in little wounded gasps. “It’s too much.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Ryuzo tried to pull out, only for Jin to growl and lock his heels against his ass, holding him in place. “Don’t you want to stop?” 

“No?” Jin dug his fingers into Ryuzo’s back, hard enough to sting. “I… I want this.” 

“Then relax,” Ryuzo said, nuzzling Jin’s jaw, reaching between them with his slicked hand to stroke Jin’s flagging cock. He started to laugh, burying his mirth against the bedding beside Jin’s cheek. “Maa, if you’d asked me where I thought I might ever take your virginity, I wouldn’t have guessed ‘storage loft of a secret clan house on top of Mount Jogaku’.” 

“Would you have preferred somewhere else?” Jin asked, in between soft gasps. 

“Hmm.” Ryuzo pretended to think. “Somewhere more private, maybe. I like you loud. Every time you start squealing on my fingers, I think about how you’d sound on my cock. Pity I’m not going to find out as yet.” 

“R-Ryuzo!” Jin hissed, squirming in embarrassment. Ryuzo snickered, kissing Jin until the pressure around him eased. Jin glared at Ryuzo as Ryuzo wadded up a spare headband and pressed it into Jin’s mouth as a makeshift gag. Still, he bit down obligingly—only to arch with a muffled whine as Ryuzo tentatively rocked into him. Damn. Ryuzo bit down on the inside of his cheek, struggling for control. Already too close. His heart was beating so quickly that Ryuzo was starting to feel a little lightheaded. He pressed kisses over Jin’s throat and shoulders as he began to move, easing into a careful rhythm once Jin’s thighs stopped gripping him so tightly. 

Jin clawed at Ryuzo’s back, moans swallowed by the gag, eyes squeezed shut. “Good?” Ryuzo panted. Jin frowned but didn’t answer, even as Ryuzo began stroking him in time with his thrusts. “You know how good you feel right now?” Ryuzo whispered into Jin’s ear. Jin shivered, whimpering as hot breath dusted his cheek. “So tight and hot.” Ryuzo reached down briefly, stroking the stretched rim around his cock, and Jin’s eyes fluttered open as he mewled. “It’ll feel better for you soon,” Ryuzo said, shifting. “Once I… there we are,” Ryuzo said, as Jin keened and bucked against him, clenching down. 

“Shit,” Ryuzo groaned. “If you didn’t have your early training, I’d fuck you until you can’t walk.” Jin whined, pulling shyly at Ryuzo’s shoulders, urging him on. Loud even with the gag—his muffled moans echoing through the loft as Ryuzo thrust, their world compressing down to just the tender space between them. “Jin,” Ryuzo whispered as he moved, as they fit together more and more sweetly, until with a drawn-out groan Jin bucked into Ryuzo’s grip, hot fluid making a mess between them. Ryuzo started to slow down as Jin sank onto the bedding, wanting to make the moment last, but looking at how satiated Jin was—it was the last straw. Lust burned through Ryuzo as with a few sharp jerks of his hips, he pulsed inside Jin, biting down on his wrist to stifle his cry. 

As Ryuzo tried to pull out, Jin’s legs wrapped tightly over him. “Not yet,” Jin said, sounding sleepy as he spat out the gag. 

“You’re going to regret it if I don’t get us cleaned up,” Ryuzo said, though he stayed where he was, kissing Jin’s cheek. Jin huffed but didn’t answer, his eyes fixed on a distant point beyond Ryuzo’s shoulder.

“Will you still leave? After this, if we survive.” 

“I don’t know. I feel like I should at least see Lord Masaru safely back home and make sure he’s all right,” Ryuzo said. He owed that much to Shintaro, at least.

“Home,” Jin echoed. He stroked Ryuzo’s cheek gently. “Is that no longer Tsushima for you?” 

“You know what I mean,” Ryuzo said. 

“Do I?”

“Lord Masaru’s estate isn’t it. Or anywhere. I think I got used to not having one,” Ryuzo said. It’d suited him fine for years. He’d never thought about it as a loss. Jin went quiet, allowing Ryuzo to ease gingerly out of him and get them cleaned up. They dressed slowly, and Jin clung to Ryuzo as they settled down for the night, shifting to tuck his head over Ryuzo’s shoulder. 

“If you leave Tsushima, so will I,” Jin said. 

“You? You might have better things to do by then,” Ryuzo said, trying to tease but sounding meditative instead. 

“To survive all that I have, then spend the rest of my life without all that I want?” Jin looked steadily at Ryuzo. In the dim light from the stars, his eyes seemed to burn with their own fire. 

“The curse of becoming a legend and all that,” Ryuzo said, chuckling. “Surely the Shikken can’t name you a traitor yet again. You’d finally be the Hero of Tsushima. They’d have to shower titles and more land on you.” 

“I’d rather be no one,” Jin said, shifting to press his ear over Ryuzo’s heart. “Life is so short and can be so cruel. Lord Masaru was right. I grew up with you. I spent much of our time since we met again with you. But it’ll never be enough. Even if we’re together for the rest of our lives, it’ll never be enough.” 

“Haah?” Ryuzo said, prodding Jin on the nose, smiling helplessly, fondly. “Lord Sakai, the strangest things tend to come out of your mouth. What are you saying, hm? That you’ll chase me down in Yomi-no-kuni?”

“If you get there first, wait for me at the gates. If I do, I’ll wait for you. Promise me.”

“Can we not talk about something so depressing?” Ryuzo asked, stroking Jin’s back gently. “Defeating the Mongols still feels impossible to me. Even after all we’ve done. Why make plans for anything else until they’re gone?” 

“Promise me,” Jin whispered. 

Ryuzo relented. “It was always going to be that way.” Satisfied, Jin curled against Ryuzo, closing his eyes. He dropped off quickly into a shallow sleep, but Ryuzo stayed awake, staring up at nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yu Yan’s device is based on Mine Kafon, which I once saw in the design museum in Tokyo. 
> 
> This kind of late-game training is more in the line of Japanese games, where you often acquire the Ultima weapon / final moves nearer to the last boss. I guess here Jin is doing the equivalent of finally picking up the Komatsu school/Tiger Drop in Yakuza ^^;;


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to post the final 2 chapters all at once, so keep reading after this one :3

“Ugly morning,” Ryuzo said. Storm clouds had been gathering against the mountains for days, but it was gloomier than usual, the biting wind clawing at their clothes as Jin looked out over the edge of the cliff. 

“The Gods are angry,” Norio said, studying the clouds. Beside him, Mu Qingzheng sniffed but said nothing. 

“Angry with who?” Ryuzo asked. 

“Everyone, maybe,” Jin said. The coming storm looked worse than even the one that had lashed Izumi seven years ago. An uncommon occurrence for this time of year. Jin stared at the army arrayed at the foot of the mountains. It still looked endless. “You’ve all done well, defending against that.” 

“With the help of supplies from our Chinese allies,” Bettomaru said, nodding at Mu Qingzheng. Mu Qingzheng started to speak and twitched violently instead, jerking away from the edge of the cliff. Turning on his heel, he hurried back toward the clan housing. 

Jin scanned the enemy camp. He spotted General Arakhan’s white eagle before the general himself, who was outside a tent talking to someone. Ryuzo looked uneasily behind them. “I was hoping Mu Qingzheng would be fit to fight,” Ryuzo said, lowering his voice. 

“I’ll speak to him, but if he isn’t, I’m happy leaving him here,” Jin said. Qingzheng had done more than enough. If Jin had to, he’d do the rest alone. 

“This plan from General Liang is rather light on the details,” Ryuzo said, his gaze tracking through the large camp. “Exactly how are we meant to break through the encirclement?” 

“Once General Liang’s siege weapons get within range of the encampment, Mu Qingzheng and I will lure General Arakhan away from here,” Jin said, gesturing to the east. “Fan Wenhu is in Port Izumi. Without a leader, our forces can break through into the back of the encampment and sow enough chaos that between that and the combined samurai forces, you should be able to push the Mongols back to Izumi,” Jin said. 

“Which all sounds very reasonable _other than the part where you plan on facing General Arakhan alone_ ,” Ryuzo snapped. “You’re not serious.” 

“I won’t be alone. Probably,” Jin said. 

“It’ll look like an obvious trap,” Bettomaru agreed, frowning at the camp. “With just the two of you running away? Especially with your reputation? He won’t follow.”

“If he doesn’t, we’ll turn around and engage his army, and harry them until he comes after us,” Jin said. He gestured at the battlefield. “Grand melees aren’t as exciting to Arakhan as fighting a decent opponent. Mu Qingzheng and I are the only people whom he deems worth fighting on Tsushima. He’ll come after us.” 

“Oh, he’ll follow. Then he’ll kill you. Or worse,” Ryuzo said, visibly upset. “You can’t be… wait. Or is there a trap? Please tell me you have a plan.” 

“He doesn’t want to kill us,” Jin said with a calm stare. “That means we can waste his time until the skirmish is over. Or we might defeat him.” 

Ryuzo gestured back at the clan housing. “Does Mu Qingzheng look fighting fit to you? If he isn’t, what then?”

“Then I’ll do it alone,” Jin said. As Ryuzo let out a frustrated growl, Jin glanced at Norio and Bettomaru. “A moment please.” 

Norio bowed, though he looked worried as he followed Bettomaru back to the clan house. Once they were out of sight, Ryuzo shoved Jin up against the rock wall behind them and kissed him hard on the mouth. Jin twitched, then relaxed into Ryuzo’s grip, gentling the kiss until Ryuzo muttered, “And I suppose you don’t want me along.” 

“No. I don’t want anyone else along. Arakhan will kill you.” 

“Why does it always come to this with you?” Ryuzo said, furious. “A reckless plan where you risk just your life?”

“Not just mine this time,” Jin said, stroking Ryuzo’s cheek. “Maybe. Besides, as you said, it might not work.”

“This doesn’t sound like something you’d have thought of,” Ryuzo said. 

Jin nodded. “General Liang’s idea. She told Mu Qingzheng to make sure I helped to lure Arakhan away, though she left the method up to his discretion. He chose to ask me directly.” 

“So she’d have been fine with Mu Qingzheng trying to trick you or something? I think I don’t like her anymore.” 

“She’s close to her goal. The gloves are coming off,” Jin said, who’d expected as much. He’d seen a true glimpse of the woman under General Liang’s smiling face when he’d faced her in a duel. That vengeful, incandescent fury had shuttered away once she’d sheathed her sword, but Jin could read it in her eyes now and then. Just a spark, buried deep. 

“Isn’t her goal his death? Why isn’t she here, then?” 

“She says she wants his head, but I think what she wants is his destruction. Why go to such lengths to defeat Arakhan in a war, when she could’ve resorted to poison or something during her time as one of his trusted Generals? A second military defeat on Tsushima will embarrass Kublai Khan as well, and hurt him where it counts,” Jin said. He stroked his thumbs against Ryuzo’s cheeks. “Either way, it suits me. Don’t die. And don’t come after me.” 

“What makes you think that I’ll do what you want?” Ryuzo asked, subdued. 

“Because if Arakhan sends you to the gates of Yomi-no-kuni, I won’t be far behind,” Jin whispered. Ryuzo shivered, his next breath escaping him in a low and ragged snarl. He kissed Jin again, hard enough to bruise. 

“I can’t stand you sometimes,” Ryuzo said, turning away to glare at the encampment, his fists clenched tight. He tensed as Jin embraced him from behind, and said nothing as Jin walked away.

Qingzheng stood in the inner courtyard, breathing in shallow, nervous gasps. The words Jin wished to say to him died on his tongue. “You’ve done what you could,” Jin said gently. “I can do the rest. Remain here and protect the survivors.” 

“Don’t be kind to me,” Qingzheng snapped. He shivered. “Do you have. 酒.” Jin didn’t recognise the word, but he could guess. He scrounged up a small cask of sake from the survivors, passing it to Qingzheng. Qingzheng opened it with shaky fingers and drank, throat working until the cask was dry. He swayed a little as he dropped it, the container shattering at his feet. Again Qingzheng laughed his mournful laugh. “Ready,” he said.

#

By the time they reached the northeastern entrance of the encampment, Qingzheng looked like he’d started to sober up and was regretting it. He stayed quiet as Jin announced himself loudly outside of arrow range, waiting. Sentries peeled away from the watchtowers, hopefully to talk to General Arakhan. As they waited, Qingzheng looked Jin’s Ghost armour over critically. “Ugly. Where dragon armour?” he asked.

Jin’s tension cracked. He laughed. “I returned the dragon armour to General Liang.” Jin would’ve liked to go into this fight clad in his Gosaku armour, but that was far away in Izuhara. 

“If we win, take it back,” Qingzheng said. 

“It was her son’s.” 

“Son is dead. Dragon armour is for dragons,” Qingzheng said. He straightened up as the gates opened, and let out a soft and strangled sound as General Arakhan rode out with an attendant. 

Arakhan looked between Jin and Qingzheng with amusement, his gaze lingering on Qingzheng. “What a pleasure to see you both again,” Arakhan said, and added something in Chinese that made Qingzheng flinch. 

“Commander Mu has been training me since our last duel,” Jin said, beckoning. “Let’s fight again. See how much better I’ve become.” 

Arakhan perked up. He began to get off his horse, but Jin and Qingzheng wheeled around, retreating a short distance. Arakhan paused and laughed. “Rather an obvious ploy, isn’t it? Given the army at my gates.” 

“Afraid?” Jin asked, tilting his head. 

The attendant beside Arakhan began to speak, but Arakhan held up a hand. “And a childish taunt to boot.” He looked behind him at the encampment, then up at the turbulent grey sky. “I knew you were on Mount Jogaku, but didn’t see you during any of the skirmishes.”

“Commander Mu was training me during that time on the mountain’s peak,” Jin said. Arakhan looked at Qingzheng, who nodded slowly. 

“Interesting. Can you get that much better in such a short time?” Arakhan asked. 

“I wasn’t training against him. I was training against you. Commander Mu has a detailed understanding of your style,” Jin said. 

“Well,” Arakhan said with a merciless, hungry smile, “he had a long time to come to a detailed understanding of me. As you will.” Qingzheng looked away, his hands clenching tightly over his reins. 

“We’ll see,” Jin said. 

“Tempting,” Arakhan said, though he looked back over his shoulder again, then at Qingzheng. “Are you here to fight, or watch?” 

Qingzheng’s hands shook so much that he clasped the pommel of his saddle. He rasped something in Chinese that made Arakhan laugh, intrigued. “Fighting the both of you at the same time? Now that’ll be interesting,” Arakhan said, joyous. “Finally. Something interesting.” 

The attendant beside him began again to speak. Without looking at him, Arakhan’s hand shot out, closing tight around the attendant’s throat, choking him until he fell unconscious. As the body toppled off the horse, Arakhan selected a spear from the bundle at the saddle. Qingzheng paled at the sight of it. Iridescent patterns flecked the black shaft, ending in a crest of jet and gold, hung with heavy tassels. The intricate, sleek spear blade had a pair of short pronged teeth protruding directly from the blade, giving the spear the look of an elongated arrowhead. Arakhan hefted the spear, then grinned and tossed it, embedding it in the grass before Qingzheng’s horse. 

Qingzheng didn’t touch it, though his eyes were drawn to the weapon, haunted. “Commander,” Jin prompted gently. Qingzheng shivered, taking in a slow breath. He plucked the weapon from the grass and spun it deftly in the air. 

“The fang of the Tiger of Fancheng,” Arakhan said, still smiling. “Did you miss this old friend of yours? Qingzheng.” 

Qingzheng nearly dropped the spear at the sound of his name, but he raised his gaze, glaring at Arakhan. “Are we done talking?” Jin asked. Arakhan laughed. He leaned over the attendant’s saddle and selected an ordinary spear, motioning for Jin to lead.

#

Jin slowed once he reached Cape Izumi. Rain sketched intermittent downpours from the iron clouds above, the wind howling up against the flanks of the mountain behind them. Beyond the cape, an army of ships dotted the sea beyond Port Izumi. Still more than Jin could count. Looking at the numbers, Jin felt momentarily dizzy. Everything he had done so far, all the battles he had won—had there been much of a point? The army he saw was still larger than he imagined.

Arakhan chuckled as he looked at the view. “Preparing for Iki,” he said, “then Hakata Bay.” 

“General Fan?” Jin asked. 

“Somewhere in the port.” Arakhan looked bored at the question. “Or on a ship.” At Jin’s frown, Arakhan said, “Fan Wenhu hopes to become another Zhang Hongfan of Yamen. He disagreed with Kublai Khan when I was chosen as Supreme Commander.” 

“Can you disagree with an emperor?” Jin asked, surprised. 

Arakhan gave Jin an amused look. “Kublai Khan is not like the Chinese emperors before him, who think themselves the sons of Heaven, their word above reproach. He is a warlord, and any good warlord must be willing to listen to their generals. Seven years ago, he chose his cousin to head the assault. Khotun Khan was unusual for a Mongol commander. A tactician who tried to conquer lands with a limited amount of bloodshed. Preferring to use efficient pressure points, like hostages. Much like Fan Wenhu.” 

Jin frowned at Arakhan. “Are you telling me you’re more of the norm for a Mongol warlord? Razing Toyotama and Kamiagata—”

“He is not like anyone,” Mu Qingzheng muttered, shivering. “妖怪.” 

“A monster?” Arakhan said, chuckling. “Yes. That’s why Kublai Khan chose me this time, over the objections of his generals. Including some of his relatives. He doesn’t want to loose just another warlord on Japan. He wants to punish your Shikken for his pride.” 

“Hasn’t worked as well so far, has it?” Jin asked. 

“We’ll see,” Arakhan said, clearly tiring of the conversation. He got off his horse, settling his eagle on the saddle, tickling its feathers. “Surely we’ve come far enough.” 

Jin nodded. He dismounted, the horse retreating to a safe distance as Jin patted its rump. Qingzheng stayed frozen in the saddle, looking between them, then he reluctantly got off and did the same. Arakhan eyed his unsteady step with amusement. “How much did he drink before coming here to face me?” 

“Do you still want to talk or fight?” Jin asked, drawing his katana. Arakhan stabbed the spear into the ground beside him and motioned for Jin to approach, bringing up his hands. 

Deciding not to wait on Qingzheng, Jin charged. He paused just out of striking range. Arakhan laughed, looking between Jin and Qingzheng. He stepped forward, a feint—Jin waited, trying to bait Arakhan into an attack. “You learn quickly,” Arakhan told Jin. “He must have told you to fight defensively. To concentrate on counterattacking, because that’s the only time I might leave myself open. Am I right?” he asked, looking beyond Jin. 

“Would it be true?” Jin asked. 

“What if neither of us attacks, then? We could stand here and stare at the storm forever,” Arakhan said, smiling wolfishly. 

“I’m not the one who might get bored,” Jin retorted. Besides, if that were the case, it’d suit Jin as well. Buying time for the samurai forces to take the encampment. To push on into Izumi. 

Arakhan chuckled. When Jin didn’t move, he hopped on his feet for a while. Then, as Jin hoped, he lunged, aiming a precise jab at Jin’s face. Having seen this from Qingzheng, Jin stepped back quickly instead of trying to strike Arakhan in turn, weaving away until he thought he recognised a gap in Arakhan’s guard. As Jin stabbed at Arakhan’s flank, Arakhan twisted away, narrowly parrying the strike with the flat of his armoured bracer. He glanced at Qingzheng with laughter in his eyes. “Why are you teaching him things that don’t work?” 

Qingzheng didn’t reply, trembling as he frowned at his feet. “A good teacher doesn’t feed solutions to their students,” Jin said, backing off. “They teach their students the means to find their way.” 

Arakhan yawned. “Fine words, but I’m not getting the entertainment I was promised.” 

“That isn’t my problem,” Jin said. Arakhan exhaled. He lunged, slapping Jin’s katana aside with the flat of his bracer and aiming a jab at Jin’s elbow. Jin switched his grip on his katana to one hand, blocking with an upraised arm, driving up Arakhan’s guard, then twisting to kick him hard in the chest, with enough force to bowl him off his feet. 

Arakhan rolled up onto a knee with a wolfish laugh. “Now that isn’t one of Qingzheng’s moves,” he said as he got up. 

They traded bouts over the grass, Jin concentrating on his positioning, allowing any blows that slipped past his guard to land against his armour. Still hard enough that he sometimes grew winded, but Jin always found the strength to recover before the next strike. Again and again, until Arakhan started to frown—until he made his first mistake. An overextension from a heavy swing aimed at Jin’s head. Jin ducked out of the way and changed his grip on his katana, angling it sharply up at Arakhan’s jaw. Arakhan jerked out of the way in time somehow, but it cut open his cheek. 

As he bled profusely down his throat, Arakhan cursed, backing off, then he started to laugh. He turned up his mouth to the angry sky, letting out a harsh, wolflike howl, and plucked the spear from the grass, twirling it before him. Jin shifted his feet, holding his katana one-handed and low against his waist with his free hand stretched out before him. 

Arakhan grinned, shifting his grip on the spear, one hand pressed close to the blunt base, the tip pointed at the grass in a familiar stance. At Jin’s blink, Arakhan said, “Sōjutsu… that’s what you people call it, hm?” He jabbed deftly up at Jin, angling to catch Jin’s blade in the prongs on his spear. 

Jin spun, katana flicking out of the way, slicing past the shaft. Arakhan’s grip shifted far up the spear as he jerked aside, swinging it like a bludgeon rather than with the precise thrusts that Jin had been trained to do. Jin parried the first strike, but Arakhan’s turned his spear deftly, stabbing the blunt end down hard over Jin’s foot. As Jin’s guard faltered, Arakhan whirled and kicked Jin hard on the jaw. Jin dropped to the ground, dazed. As he tried to get up, Arakhan spun the spear overhead and struck at Jin’s shoulder. 

The spear caught fast against the prongs of Qingzheng’s weapon. Qingzheng twisted his spear sharply, forcing open a gap in Arakhan’s guard. He stabbed at Arakhan’s chest, only for Arakhan to knock the blade aside. It scoured a deep gash over his arm instead.

Arakhan laughed as he backed off, inspecting his arm. “The tiger awakens once more,” Arakhan said, as Qingzheng helped Jin to his feet. 

With Qingzheng beside him, it was easier to pin down Arakhan’s attacks. To go on the offensive, knowing that someone was there to cover him. Arakhan kept laughing each time he was driven back or wounded, his face alive with delight. As yet another one of Jin’s blows scoured Arakhan’s breastplate, Arakhan spoke teasingly to Qingzheng in Chinese. Qingzheng’s next attack faltered. Wary, Jin went back on the defensive—only to have to defend Qingzheng as Arakhan attacked the Commander, breaking a defensive guard that grew more and more halfhearted with each round. With a strangled sound, Qingzheng dropped his spear and fell to his knees, clutching at his head. Alarmed, Jin grabbed Qingzheng’s shoulder, aiming to help him back up, but Qingzheng flinched away from his touch with a cry, shaking. 

Arakhan exhaled. “He’s no longer fun once he gets like that. Oh? What’s with that look on your face, Lord Ghost?” 

Jin bared his teeth into a snarl, trying to fight down the burning edge of fury pounding through his veins. Anger had always made him stronger, but also always left him open. Jin ignored his wounds, hacking at Arakhan’s guard. A lesser swordsman would have died from Arakhan’s counters, but Jin’s training—new and old—kept him alive. Jin drove Arakhan back to the cliff edge until the playful gleam in Arakhan’s eyes grew hard. 

Now he fought to kill. Arakhan knocked Jin off his feet over and over, his spear piercing the Ghost armour with each stab. Yet Jin could barely feel it. He stabbed Arakhan in the thigh, deep enough that Arakhan nearly collapsed onto a knee. As Arakhan’s resolve stretched thin, more and more gaps opened in his guard, his attacks growing wilder. Jin dodged a heavy swipe, letting out a roar as he brought down his katana in a brutal slice, severing Arakhan’s left arm at the joint. 

Arakhan staggered back, grey with shock. Jin collapsed to his knees, lightheaded from blood loss. He sank his katana into the grass and tried to get up, to finish things, but his legs kept disobeying him. Arakhan grinned, hefting his spear in his right hand. “You _are_ very good,” Arakhan said, taking aim. “Pity.” 

Qingzheng stepped in front of Jin as Arakhan threw his spear. The Commander staggered back with a choked gasp as the spear punched through his armour and caught him through his ribs, collapsing. With a cry of fury, Jin found the strength to get to his feet. He struck Arakhan across the chest, shattering armour, the Adachi katana snapping under the force of Jin’s blow. Arakhan stumbled back, wide-eyed, and fell off the edge of the cliff. He hit the rocks far below and didn’t move again. 

Jin stumbled over to Qingzheng’s side, looking at the mortal wound in horror. Qingzheng shook his head, his eyes warm and bright. “Dead?” Qingzheng asked. At Jin’s nod, Qingzheng laughed, the sound no longer mournful, even as it choked into wet coughs. The dying man clasped Jin’s hand weakly, glancing at the sky as lightning began to gash open the storm, the wind howling down towards the bay. 

“The dragon,” Qingzheng whispered fiercely, looking up at Jin, “rising.” 

Jin sat with Qingzheng until he breathed his last, the rain slicing down around them. Only then did he shake his broken katana clean, sheathing what was left of it. Getting unsteadily to his feet, Jin walked over to Qingzheng’s spear, picking it up, whistling for his horse. Below, the angry storm began to break the Mongol ships against the shore as the fleet started its retreat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapter update! 
> 
> Mu Qingzheng’s spear: 虎牙槍, the Tiger Fang: https://greatmingmilitary.blogspot.com/2019/03/telling-apart-chinese-polearms-quick.html
> 
> Samurai style of fighting with spear: sōjutsu: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nHnQEfHLr2U  
> Arakhan’s weird af spear style: Yakuza 5: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GtRvRTkUhmA + Shinobi hunter from Sekiro: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nWVeRNE3yHY


	26. Chapter 26

epilogue

Ryuzo glowered at General Liang as she let herself into the room. She ignored him, looking Jin over curiously. “Doctor Pei says you’ll make a full recovery,” Guiying said.

“No thanks to your plans,” Ryuzo growled. 

Jin tried to sit up and gave in, wincing as pain lanced through him from his many wounds. “We won?” Jin asked. 

“I already told you we did,” Ryuzo said, even as Guiying sat beside him, folding her hands over her lap. 

She wore a blue silk kimono with the Adachi mon printed over the hems, and as Jin stared, Guiying said, “A loan from Lady Masako. I’ve always wanted to try one on. I don’t know how your women can stand it. Having to shuffle around without falling over.”

“Maybe you’re wearing it wrongly,” Ryuzo said. 

Guiying looked at him. “Have I offended you in some way?” 

“You mean, other than your plan that nearly got Jin killed?” Ryuzo shot back. 

“How is that different from every other plan he’s been involved in? Especially those he makes up by himself?” Guiying countered. 

As Ryuzo bristled, Jin said, “Enough. It worked.” Without a leader, the combined Mongol forces in the encampment broke under the samurai assault, retreating in confusion to Izumi. The violent storm that rose in the bay prevented ships from coming in with reinforcements, and after a furious battle in the port, Fan Wenhu chose to retreat rather than keep trying to stay and be dashed against the shore. The surviving ships headed west, returning to China, while the soldiers abandoned on the shores surrendered and were executed. 

“I’m sorry about Commander Mu,” Jin said. 

“Why?” Guiying asked, tilting her head. “He got what he wanted.” She looked pointedly at Ryuzo, who glared back at her.

“Ryuzo, could you give us a moment?” Jin asked. Scowling, Ryuzo got up and left the room.

Guiying chuckled once his footsteps faded. “Interesting. Does your uncle know about the two of you?” At the panic on Jin’s face, Guiying patted his arm. “Never mind. If he doesn’t see it, that’s his problem.”

“Did you get what you wanted?” Jin asked. 

“So far.” 

“Was it worth it?” 

“I think your Shikken is still deciding my fate,” Guiying said, with a hard look in her eyes, “so ask me again in a year or so. Right now, however, I’m satisfied.” 

“It isn’t fair,” Jin said, clenching his hands tightly over his futon, even though it made his wounds ache. “If they send all of you back. Or worse.”

“We came into this knowing the risks,” Guiying said with a dismissive wave. “After all, we saw what they did to you the last time around. On the bright side, Lord Masaru said he’s confident that you’ll be awarded a full amnesty. Hopefully, with the military merits to match.”

“We’ll see,” Jin said. Masaru had come by to see Jin after Jin had woken up, and he’d been brusque, contemplative. “I don’t care much about that.” 

“This again,” Guiying said, making a show of covering her ears. “Don’t be so ungrateful, or they’ll name you a traitor out of spite this time.” 

“I mean. It won’t be fair if I’m the only one rewarded. Worse, if it’s just us samurai. Plenty of other people did their part. Wasn’t us who suffered the most, either.” 

“That’s feudalism for you.” 

“Isn’t fair,” Jin said. He coughed, and Guiying helped him have some water. “Look. I know it was a joke before, but. If it’ll make things easier, or save your people from being chased away or turned into slaves? I’ll marry you.” 

Guiying clutched archly at her chest. “Wah! That has to be the most ungracious proposal I’ve ever heard. ‘If we absolutely have no choice, let’s get married’.” 

“Well—”

“Jin, I didn’t want to say this outright before in case you or your friends took things the wrong way,” Guiying said, amused, “but don’t you know who holds the most military power on Tsushima right now?” 

“You,” Jin said, with a wry smile. 

“That’s right. I’m not going to be doing anything that I don’t want to do. If your Shikken decides to try and push me around by force, he’ll soon learn that I’m not so easily pushed. I won’t leave unless I want to leave. So get well soon, hm?” Guiying rose to her feet. As she walked out of the room, she turned to look at someone in the corridor. “You again! I’m starting to think that you’re following me around.”

“Is that an Adachi kimono?” Lord Shimura asked, sounding surprised. 

“I make it look good, don’t I?” Guiying asked cheekily. 

“You…” Lord Shimura trailed off as Guiying laughed in his face before leaving. When Lord Shimura entered Jin’s room, he looked a little flustered. 

Jin hoped Lord Shimura hadn’t overheard the part Guiying had said about being the largest military power left on Tsushima. “Oji-ue,” he began, then paused as he noted the familiar scabbards that Lord Shimura was holding. His family blades. He tried to sit up again but gave up as Lord Shimura sat and gestured for him to stay still, setting the blades down beside him. “I thought these were lost.” 

“General Liang put the word out and had them located. Take better care of them this time,” Lord Shimura said. 

“I will. Lord Harunobu’s blade… I’ve apologised to Lady Masako. For breaking it. She wasn’t offended.” 

“I doubt Harunobu would’ve been, either. It served its purpose.” 

“I hear Lord Masaru is returning to the mainland,” Jin said. 

“Yes. He said he’ll get the scroll of amnesty signed, and return it to Tsushima personally,” Lord Shimura said. 

“It’s yours.” 

Lord Shimura shook his head. “You’ve more than earned it. Tsushima would be better with you as the Jitō. Should that be the shōgun’s way of rewarding you, I’ll accept it. Twice now, you’ve done the impossible.”

“Not by myself,” Jin said, alarmed. “I don’t want to displace you. That was never why I did any of this.” 

“The displacement might not be involuntary. As I said, for the longest time, you were my choice for my replacement.” 

Jin gave his uncle a long, uncertain stare. “Do you forgive me then? For seven years ago. For everything since.” 

Lord Shimura gave him an unreadable look. “You would care?” 

“Why shouldn’t I?” 

Lord Shimura’s hands tightened and relaxed over his lap. “Some things are hard to forgive. Yet I can’t help but acknowledge all that you’ve done, for the reasons that you’ve had. Should the scroll of amnesty return with the shōgun’s seal, accept it as your due.”

#

Lord Masaru waited politely as Jin finished praying before his mother’s grave, the new offerings and incense placed before the newly-washed stone. As Jin rose to his feet and turned around, picking up the pail and ladle, he glanced inquiringly at Lord Masaru.

“The signed amnesty,” Masaru said, offering Jin the scroll in his hands. 

“It couldn’t wait?” Jin asked, though he took the heavy scroll from Masaru and tucked it into his clothes. 

“I thought your father might like to see the proof of your reinstatement. And the awarded expansion to your lands.” 

“Which father?” Jin asked, though he smiled faintly and continued to walk through the cemetery. Masaru followed, looking around. The graveyard had largely escaped the military occupation unscathed, though some of the stones were broken. The trees shading the tombs reddened with the season, shedding their leaves into a lush crimson blanket over the grass. Masaru waited by the steps to the round plateau as Jin washed his ancestors’ tombs, then his father’s, setting down offerings and incense. Praying. 

On their way back through the cemetery, Masaru said, “Ryuzo returned with me. He’s waiting for you down in the village.” 

Jin glanced at Masaru. He’d grown better at schooling his expression. “Good to hear. Will you be staying long?” 

“I’ll be riding over to Castle Shimura to speak to your uncle. After that, I’ll return to the mainland.”

“I see,” Jin said. 

“I asked Ryuzo if he wished to be released from my service,” Masaru said as they walked, “but he changed the subject. I think he might choose to accompany me back to Kyoto.” 

“He doesn’t have many good memories of Tsushima.” Jin paused as they passed a group of people solemnly tidying a corner of the cemetery. They looked up, waving and greeting Jin in Chinese. He nodded at them. 

“Is that the true reason, or something else? I don’t want people to remain in my service out of guilt,” Masaru said, looking curiously at the group as they walked. “Shintaro’s death had little to do with Ryuzo.”

“Did you tell him that?” 

“Once or twice.” 

“It’s his choice,” Jin said and paused as Masaru gripped his arm. 

“Lord Sakai. You’re still young, so perhaps you don’t understand. The time you have with the people you treasure… don’t waste it.” 

“I can’t force people to stay with me,” Jin said, his jaw clenching. 

“Then stay with them. If they’ll have you.” 

Jin gave Masaru an odd look. “Would you have done that? Leave Clan Hōjō for Captain Shintaro.”

“If I had to? In a heartbeat.” 

Jin looked away. “I thought I could. Abandon the village of my birth, the people here. Tell my uncle and the others that I’ve done enough, and to walk away from it all. But when it came down to it, when I saw how much had to be done… I couldn’t.”

“Perhaps not while people still needed you. The rebuilding effort looked fine on my way up here,” Masaru said. Jin went quiet as they walked to the edge of the cemetery, where their horses cropped grass by the trees. “There’ll be space on my ship if you’d like to visit Kyoto, and you’d be welcome in my home.” 

“I’ll think about it,” Jin said. As Masaru mounted up, Jin said, “Captain Shintaro’s grave… it’s at Kushi Temple. In case you wanted to know. Norio-san arranged matters.” 

Masaru kept his expression tightly composed. “Thank you. For the thought.” On the way down to Omi village, Masaru looked around, checking that he was alone. He exhaled, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. Turning his horse, he nudged it north.

#

“I don’t think that’s possible with a katana,” Takemi said with a solemn frown as General Liang demonstrated the Jade Flute swordplay technique, her blade flickering around her pale blue robes.

“Probably not,” Guiying said, finishing with a flourish and sheathing her blade. 

“Looks more flashy to me than anything,” Masako said with a snort, though beside her, Mai clapped enthusiastically. 

“I think it’s stunning. Like dancing,” Mai said. 

“Pretty, but is it useful?” Masako asked, eyeing the blade critically. “Those clothes, though. What did you call them, ruqun? Looks comfortable.” 

“Have a set if you like,” Guiying said, though she hadn’t brought that many. Guiying hadn’t expected to be wearing it much in Tsushima and beyond. Or be alive for long once she completed her objective. 

“Whispering Leaves—I liked that one,” Takemi said, still caught up in thinking about swordplay. “Can you show me again?” 

“Now you’ve done it,” Mai said, covering her mouth and giggling. “Once he gets like this, he’s unbearable. He’d want to see it again and again until he can do it.” 

“My son wasn’t like this at your age,” Guiying said, though she obligingly drew her blade in a graceful flourish. “All he wanted to do was play with kites.” 

Takemi looked at her, surprised. “Wasn’t he born during your war against the Mongols?”

“Takemi,” Masako said in a warning tone.

“He wasn’t a child who rose naturally toward the sword—he learned it at the end only because he had to, though it suited him well. In a better time, he would’ve been more of a poet than a warrior.” Guiying took herself into the acrobatic, sweeping routine of Whispering Leaves, chasing the wind with the tip of her blade. She paused as she heard approaching footsteps, bringing up her sword into a guard position—and lowered it as she recognised Lord Shimura. 

Masako frowned as Lord Shimura walked over, though she greeted him politely enough, along with Takemi. “Did something come up?” Masako asked. “Jin finally got into trouble over on the mainland?” 

Lord Shimura blinked at her. “No? I haven’t heard anything from Jin.” 

Masako grunted. “Well, once you do, tell him to come back. I’ve got my hands full with Ariake. I don’t need to be running Kubara as well. Didn’t you raise him to have a better sense of responsibility than this?” 

“I’ll help out more,” Takemi said, looking anxious. “Haha-ue, you didn’t mention that it was too much for you.” 

“Haah? Why is it your problem?” Masako patted her son’s head, amused. She began to say more, but Mai nudged her politely. They exchanged a look, then Masako grinned as she glanced back at Lord Shimura. “I presume you have business with my houseguest then, not me.” 

“Yes,” Lord Shimura said. 

Masako inclined her head, chivvying her son and her partner back to the inner courtyard. Once they were nearly out of earshot, Takemi asked, “Are you _sure_ you don’t need help with Kubara?” 

“Good boy, that one,” Guiying said approvingly as she sheathed her blade. “Well? What do you want?” 

“Are you only ever this rude when you’re addressing me?” Lord Shimura asked, though he didn’t scowl. 

“You’d suspect something amiss if I tried to be sweet. Here, I’ll show you.” Guiying composed herself, lowered her eyes and smiled shyly as she said in a respectful tone, “Lord Shimura. Did you need anything from me?” 

“You’re right,” Lord Shimura said, amused. “Now I’m on my guard.” 

“There you go. Did you want to talk to me about something? Or finish our game of Go?” Guiying asked. No one in the Adachi holdings knew how to play Go or shogi, and since Mu Qingzheng’s death, she’d lost her usual partner. 

“You’d only win again, and what stakes would we be playing for? Surely you don’t need to know more about Jin.” 

“Well,” Guiying said, pretending to look surprised, “since you brought that up. Your nephew _is_ very impressive.” 

“You’re baiting me again,” Lord Shimura said, instead of glowering at her as he had the last time. “Is that also something that you only do with me?” 

“It’s fun seeing you bristle and puff up in anger,” Guiying admitted. “Like a very well-dressed cat.” 

Lord Shimura sniffed. The new game they’d been playing together was entertaining—if only because they were on a more even footing. Playing against a far weaker opponent was never stimulating for long. Still, for all that Lord Shimura had adjusted quickly, this was a game that Guiying knew better than he. “So! Are you finally going to propose to me?” she asked with mock innocence.

Guiying smirked as Lord Shimura reddened and sputtered. Like father, like son. Or perhaps it was how the samurai were. Other than Masako, everyone seemed so tightly bound up in formal social restrictions. It reminded Guiying a little of the Imperial Court, but worse. “All right, all right. Wah, you’re just like your nephew. Your courtships must be very boring if you find everything so embarrassing.” 

Instead of storming off, Lord Shimura asked, “Is this what it is? A courtship?” 

Guiying blinked. Lord Shimura was still flushed to the ears, but he looked at her thoughtfully. A little taken aback, Guiying said, “I was only teasing—”

“Were you? That’s disappointing.” 

Guiying tried to think of an appropriate response, only for Lord Shimura to smile faintly. “Was that a joke? All right. Who are you, and where is the real Lord Shimura?” Guiying asked, chuckling. 

“It might be a joke. Or not. Depending on what you’d prefer,” Lord Shimura said. 

Guiying’s amusement faded. She studied Lord Shimura, growing quiet. She’d seen the signs—men like Lord Shimura, as Guiying had told Jin before, were not hard to read. “So you know,” Guiying said lightly, “if you’re proposing marriage such that my people will be allowed to resettle here, your nephew already made me that offer.” 

“What?” Lord Shimura scowled. “When?” 

“Right after he woke up and realised we’d won. Works fast, doesn’t he?” As Lord Shimura’s frown deepened, Guiying said, “I said ‘no’ then. If you’re making me the same offer, along the same lines, it’s also ‘no’.” 

“I wouldn’t want someone to marry me because of something like that. Because they felt they had no choice. Also, the Shikken just approved the resettlement plan for your people. Along with your families, if you can rescue them out of China. For those who’d prefer to leave, they’ll be provided with recompense for their service.” 

“Generous terms,” Guiying said, surprised. 

“Lord Masaru’s doing, I believe. On behalf of the Hōjō clan. He’s offered to employ anyone who might wish to leave Tsushima and resettle on the mainland.” 

“I see.” That made more sense. An easy way for Clan Hōjō to replace the soldiers it had lost and more. 

“That’s what I wished to tell you.” Lord Shimura looked a little uncomfortable. “I’d like you to stay. In Tsushima.” 

“With you?” Guiying couldn’t help but tease. “Hmm. This proposal is even worse than your nephew’s. No terms at all. I don’t know why I’m considering it.” 

Lord Shimura coughed. “Is that another joke?” 

“Not entirely,” Guiying admitted. 

“Good.” Lord Shimura took a silk pouch from his robes, handing it over. “A gift.” 

“Can I open it here?” Guiying asked, curious. At Lord Shimura’s nod, she untied the pouch, tipping out the contents on a palm. It was an exquisitely carved boxwood comb, etched with gold and lacquer. Guiying blinked. Surely… “Do you know what a gift like this means?” 

“A wish that we could grow old together,” Lord Shimura said and smiled as Guiying blushed. “Ah. That’s new. Usually, you’re the one embarrassing me.” 

“I take back everything I said about your courtships being boring,” Guiying said, carefully slipping the comb back into the pouch. “Play shogi with me. If you win, I’ll marry you.” 

Lord Shimura stiffened, his expression growing reserved. “Is that your way of letting me down gently?” 

“I’m not ready to marry anyone yet. Over time, who knows? Play a few games with me now and then. Maybe you’ll get lucky. Or maybe, at some point, I might let you win. Though I’ll warn you—I’ll only let a man beat me at shogi if I somehow grew to love him more than I love winning.” 

“So be it,” Lord Shimura said with a wry smile. “Clan Adachi should have a set. Shall we?”

#

“I don’t understand your preoccupation with inns and tea houses in Kyoto,” Ryuzo complained as they walked out of yet another inn. “Seriously. I think we’ve now been to every single one in the city.”

“I’ve told you why,” Jin said, as they got on their horses and began to make their way toward Masaru’s estate. 

“Something about finding some ex-pupil of Ishikawa-sensei’s who turned out to have been some sort of mass murderer since she was a teenager?” Ryuzo shuddered. “That grumpy old man sure knows how to choose them.” 

“Just curious to see how she might be doing.”

“Given what you’ve told me about her, I can’t think of anyone less deserving of a good end, so I’m glad we haven’t run into her.” Curious as Ryuzo was about how much of a prodigy this pupil was. “Lord Masaru would’ve heard about it if someone like that had come to Kyoto.” 

“Likely so. Hm. Maybe she didn’t make it past the Mongol blockade.” 

“We should instead visit every restaurant in Kyoto,” Ryuzo suggested. “A far more deserving pursuit.” 

“Are you willing to pay for that?” 

“Haah? Why am I the one paying, Lord Sakai? Aren’t you a daimyō lord?” Ryuzo complained all the way back to the estates, where Jin blinked as he recognised Yuna waiting for them in the courtyard. 

She waved as they rode in. “Yuna,” Jin said, surprised. 

“What’s the captain of the Adachi kashindan doing here?” Ryuzo asked. 

Yuna pretended to glare at Jin. “I thought someone once promised to take me to see Kyoto, hm? Only for me to find out that he’d sailed off by himself yet again. So I had to come here by myself. Never have I met a more ungrateful friend.” 

“Ah… forgive me,” Jin said, blinking. “We can explore the city now? If you’ll like.” 

“You’d better take me somewhere very nice to make it up to me,” Yuna said as Jin and Ryuzo dismounted. “I can’t stay that long, though. I’m here to deliver a few messages. Firstly, Lady Masako would like you to go home.” 

“What? Did something happen?” Jin asked, concerned. 

“Let’s see. Something about how, while you’re having the time of your life doing whatever it is in Kyoto, she has to oversee a prefecture that isn’t hers. So if you’re not going to go back and do the work, she’s going to get your uncle to disown you, because surely that’s not the kind of man he raised.” 

Ryuzo started to laugh, even as Jin blushed. “Oh… I. Yes. I’m sorry.” 

“Tell her that, not me. Secondly, your uncle’s getting married, and you’re invited along with Lord Masaru. And Lord Hideyoshi, which is where I’m going next, so. You’d probably need to buy a gift or something before you go,” Yuna said.

Jin stared at her. “He’s what? Marrying who?” 

“General Liang?” Yuna said. 

Jin frowned. “Seriously, Yuna. This joke of yours and Ryuzo’s is not funny.” 

Yuna looked at Ryuzo. “Really?”

“I’ve tried,” Ryuzo said, rueful. 

“Well, take this fake invitation and set it on fire then, if you think it’s a joke,” Yuna said, taking out an elaborate scroll from the pouch at her hip and handing it to Jin. “I’m going to pass one to Lord Masaru. By the time I get back, you’d better have decided where we’re going for dinner.” She wandered off. 

Jin stared at the scroll in disbelief. Ryuzo took it from him, opening it and showing him the neat script. “Still want to set it on fire?” Ryuzo asked, amused. 

“I just… it hasn’t even been that long,” Jin said. It’d only been a year or so since the invasion. 

“Suppose your uncle needs to move fast if he still wants children,” Ryuzo said, patting Jin on the arm, “what with adoption turning out to be so messy and all that. So? When are you going back?”

“Will you go back with me?” Jin asked, his gaze openly vulnerable, even though they were standing in broad daylight in Lord Masaru’s estates. “If you aren’t, I won’t stay in Tsushima after the wedding.”

“Lady Masako will murder you.” 

“I’ll name her son my heir.”

“Poaching her son? She’ll stab you repeatedly in tender places first.” 

“I won’t ask him to take my name. I was already planning on doing something like that anyway,” Jin said. He clasped Ryuzo’s palm. “Ryuzo.” 

“I’ll think about it,” Ryuzo said, uncomfortable. He’d been thinking about it on and off during the year, and it’d just gotten comfortable having Jin here. Taking on Captain Shintaro’s administrative duties along with the other captains, trying to make the transition unobtrusive for Masaru, who was still in mourning. Jin looked unhappy but nodded, biting on his lower lip. 

Yuna returned, glancing at Ryuzo. “Lord Masaru wants to talk to you. Oi, Jin. Let’s go. Maybe we can go shopping too, hm? I bet you don’t know what you’re meant to buy for a wedding gift.”

“And you do?” Jin asked. 

“Not at all, which makes this extra fun,” Yuna chirped. Jin looked over at Ryuzo, who made a shooing gesture and walked toward the inner courtyard. 

Masaru sat by a koi pond, watching the fish, the invitation half-open on his lap. He didn’t look up as Ryuzo knelt respectfully behind him. “Isn’t it about time you left my service?” Masaru asked. 

“Well, that’s direct,” Ryuzo said, startled. 

Masaru glanced at him with a wan smile. “I appreciate your concern, but it isn’t necessary.”

“Lord Masaru—”

“Things here will be fine,” Masaru said. “I don’t foresee any conflicts for a while. According to the reports, the storm damaged enough ships that it’s dealt a mortal wound to Kublai Khan’s naval strength. He won’t be devising the third invasion anytime soon.” 

“It isn’t about that,” Ryuzo said, frowning at his knees. “It’s… years ago, when Captain Shintaro found me in Kyoto, I didn’t have anywhere to go. I was just surviving day by day, doing nothing more than that. I know you had your reasons for taking me in, but being here with everyone—it helped me, at a time when I needed the help.” 

“By the work you’ve done for me in Tsushima, I count your obligation discharged.” 

“It isn’t something simple like that for me. Debts and obligations.” 

“I’ve told you before that Shintaro’s death was not your fault,” Masaru said. 

“I know.” Ryuzo couldn’t have stopped it. “That isn’t it either. I just feel like. Since he isn’t here. If the other captains and I can make his absence easier for you, we’ll try to.” 

Masaru shook his head. “This is not the life that I wish you to lead after what you’ve done for me. Shintaro would agree. Lord Sakai will remain in Kyoto if you remain here, and he’ll feel the displacement from his home keenly, even if you don’t. That sort of sentiment may eventually poison what the two of you have. Why would I wish that on anyone, let alone someone who has served me well and in good faith? Go. With my blessing.” 

“In that case... Lord Masaru, it’s been an honour,” Ryuzo said, bowing deeply. Masaru inclined his head, turning back to watch the koi as Ryuzo got to his feet.

#

Ryuzo crouched by the banks of Omi lake, carefully releasing the paper lantern into the water. As it floated free, joining the other bobbing lanterns released by the villagers, Ryuzo made his way up the slope to the tree where Jin waited, its branches hung with colourful paper strips.

“Did you make a wish?” Jin asked, passing Ryuzo a stick of dango as Ryuzo sat beside him and stretched out his legs. 

“Not my thing,” Ryuzo said, popping a dango in his mouth and chewing. His yukata had already fallen open almost to his navel, haphazardly worn. “I’m here for the free food and sake. What about you?” 

“I—” Jin paused as a little girl rushed up the slope toward them, breathlessly holding a lantern. 

“Look! Look! I made one,” Kaoru said, presenting the slightly rumpled lantern to Ryuzo. 

“Wah! Isn’t that nice?” Ryuzo said, admiring the lantern. “The nicest lantern I’ve seen so far.” 

“Nicer than mine,” Jin agreed. Kaoru beamed, even as her parents belatedly caught up with her, bowing politely to Jin. Daiki scooped up his daughter, who yelped, carefully holding her lantern at arm’s length. 

“Careful!” Kaoru scolded. 

“Isn’t it time to light it up and let it join the others?” Daiki asked, chuckling. “How many people are you going to show that to, hm?” 

“Everyone,” Kaoru said, glaring fiercely at her father. 

“Come on. You do this every year,” Daiki said. 

Ryuzo kicked Daiki’s foot. “Don’t be so sour. You’ll grow white hairs at this rate. Sour old man. Raining on her fun.”

“Sour old man!” Kaoru agreed. 

“Hoi, don’t be such a bad influence on my daughter.” Daiki kicked Ryuzo in the ankle, even as Kaoru started to struggle. As he set her back down, Kaoru looked around the crowds, whooped as she spotted Yuna, and charged off with her lantern held high. Exhaling, Daiki set off after the girl with his chuckling wife in tow. 

“Thanks,” Ryuzo said more quietly. “For letting Daiki and the others stay here.”

“I’m surprised that they wanted to,” Jin confessed, “given how crowded Omi village is.” Many of the resettled Chinese had chosen to live in Kubara prefecture due to the proximity to their general. They’d rebuilt and expanded the villages in the area—especially Omi village, whose daimyō lord was known to welcome settlers. 

“Daiki said that he prefers the noise. He and Hana are going to set up a small brewery, with Isao and his wife partnering up as an attached restaurant or something.” 

“Good idea,” Jin said, chuckling. “Better than Kenji’s. He approached me with yet another ‘business proposition’ yesterday.”

“What was it about now?”

“I’ve forgotten, other than the fact that it was terrible.” 

“Sounds like Kenji,” Ryuzo said. Ryuzo got along surprisingly—or unsurprisingly—well with Kenji. “How’s everyone else? Norio’s back in Cedar Temple, isn’t he?” 

“Many Song soldiers opted to become monks. He’s been training them—I see him now and then at Castle Shimura with updates for my uncle. Some of them might reoccupy Omi monastery once Norio-san deems them ready.” 

“Speaking of your uncle, I hear you have a new cousin on the way.” 

Jin pulled a face. “I want to be happy, but every time I visit my uncle and General Liang in Castle Shimura, I get pulled into yet another argument over something or other. Pregnancy has turned the General into a tiger. Only Yu Yan can calm her down.” 

“What was it about the last time?” 

“Something about whether the child should have a Japanese name or a Chinese name. I suggested one of each, and my uncle and General Liang _both_ scolded me and called me a traitor,” Jin said, wounded. “I’m not going back until the child is born.”

“Sounds spicy,” Ryuzo said, laughing. “Well, your uncle just has to survive the situation for a few more months.” 

“Even Tang Zhen fled the castle. He’s living with Ishikawa-sensei now.” 

“Really? I can’t imagine why anyone would want to live with that grumpy old man,” Ryuzo said. 

“They spend their days drinking and challenging each other to feats of archery. Entertaining for Hiyoshi village,” Jin said. “I hear Masako’s been trying to get General Liang to order Tang Zhen to teach Takemi. Not sure how that’s going.” 

“The boy’s already good enough for his age. He’s going to develop a complex at this rate. Just like you,” Ryuzo said, poking Jin on the knee. He shifted closer as people began crowding the lake now that most of the lanterns had been set alight, leaning against Jin’s flank, kissing his cheek. 

“I did make a wish,” Jin said, turning to kiss Ryuzo back, his gaze soft. 

“Don’t tell me what it is, or it might not come true,” Ryuzo warned, sneaking his arm around Jin’s waist. 

“I don’t need to. It’s coming true already, in so many different ways,” Jin whispered. He leaned in for a tender and lingering kiss, their lips brushing unhurriedly in the warm summer air as the wind unfurled through the paper streamers above their heads. As it grew dark, the slow constellation of lanterns spread further across the lake, scaling it with a coat of floating stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://kokoro-jp.com/culture/380/
> 
> Jade Flute Swordplay — a reference to Condor Heroes.
> 
> The floating lantern festival is actually a thing done by Tsushima in Aichi, not the island, and is more about lanterns on boats with other rituals, but welp :3 more historical handwave.
> 
> Happy 中秋节 / Mid-Autumn festival, if that’s your thing! :3 Nice coincidence to finish this fic today, given that one popular legend about mooncakes is about the uprising at the end of the Yuan dynasty, where the Han Chinese used mooncakes to conceal the message that they were to rebel on Mid-Autumn day. The popularity of mooncakes and links to today’s festival began during the Song dynasty.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> \--  
> twitter: @manic_intent  
> my writing process, original works, prompt policy: manicintent.carrd.co


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